A Precise Note
by Sir Lucifer Morningstar
Summary: A year before the supposed fated meeting with the Symbol of Peace, Midoriya Izuku unlocks his quirk and discovers that the world is vastly different when one is deemed gifted. With an ability that grants absolute precision in all of one's endeavors, the lines of right and wrong slowly start to blur.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: Holy fuck it's been a while. First, HAPPY FUCKING NEW YEAR - (even though I'm like, a month late) and second of all, this, like many of my stories, is another experiment that I'm using to try and refine my writing style.**

**Writing in the first-person perspective tends to overly color what my protagonists do, which I realized was a huge no-no unless I wanted every single one of my characters to be as jaded and sarcastic as possible.**

**For those not familiar with me through my other works, I gladly welcome you to my first ever attempt to write a BNHA story, which struck me with sudden fervor after I sat and read the manga till the current chapter. This story will contain spoilers for all you anime-only watchers out there, but I'm sure you're already anticipating that. And for my fellow manga readers... HOLY FUCK are we sure Boku no Hero isn't a fucking seinen? I mean... Shimura Tenko - nuff said.**

**WARNINGS: As I have been called an Edgelord by dozens, if not hundreds of angry guest reviewers and some with accounts, (looking at you Zentari-chan) please anticipate that this story will be dark. Not grimdark, wormdark, or bleakdark, but just your usual Nightmare Fuel and Angst dark. Expect blood, violence, sexual references, swearing, mentions of depression, suicide, self-harm, drugs - and perhaps the occasional sprinkle of fluff like a hit of heroin to make you continue reading.**

**P.S.: [Yes, I know, I have other stories which have not been updated, and my Book 2 of Janus and Oblivion is in the final stages of the second draft, but to my fans, kindly please refrain from leaving reviews reminding me to update my other stories on this story. Just as Cyberpunk 2077 was delayed, I, too, would rather delay my chapters and guarantee quality than pump them out at lightning speed and have shitty content. Thank you for understanding, and Merry Christmas!]**

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**Precision ****/prɪˈsɪʒ(ə)n/**

**n. ****the quality, condition, or fact of being exact and accurate. M****arked by or adapted for accuracy and exactness.**

**Summary: A year before the supposed fated meeting with the Symbol of Peace, Midoriya Izuku unlocks his quirk and discovers that the world is vastly different when one is deemed gifted. With an ability grants absolute precision in all of one's endeavors, the lines of good and evil slowly start to blur.**

* * *

**A Precise Note**

* * *

He only understood after getting his quirk.

"Come down Mr. Sniffles! Come down! Please?"

The cat on the tree clung to the branches. Feline claws dug into wood at acute angles to keep it stable. The girl at the bottom was young. Older than him. Her middle-school uniform was neatly ironed. She appeared mundane, lacking exotic mutant type features that would give away her quirk.

"D-d-do you need some help?"

_No, stupid – heroes don't ask – they just do! What – what if she says no? What if she laughs? She's going to laugh! Maybe I shouldn't have –_

She was prettier than he thought. She was closer to his face than he realized. His heartbeat was racing. It was fast. Too fast. _Close. Too close._ His cheeks were burning. He wanted to step back. He couldn't step back.

_What – what would Kacchan do?_

"Um – you're… a bit… um… too close… and – and –"

"Can you get Mr. Sniffles down?" She pointed to the tree. "It's pretty high up, and you're pretty small."

_I'm still growing. I'm not short – I – I just haven't hit my growth spurt yet._

"That's cute."

His face burned. _I said that out loud. Oh my god why did I say that out loud? _She was smiling at him. And she was close to him.

"I – I can help. My… my quirk. It can help."

"It can?" her eyes widened. "What can it do? Is it telekinesis? Oh = oh, you're going to grow vines from your hair?"

"U-um, no – it… well…" There wasn't any easy way to explain it. "I… can do this."

Two steps, and he was up the tree in a flip. The world blurred into a rush of air as he spun, latching his fingers lightly unto the stomach of the cat. The feline purred. Its claws raked away at the tree. He spun his body, rolled with the cat safely secure in his arms held to his chest. He landed, bleeding off the momentum with a tiny cartwheel, planting his feet unto the ground.

Mr. Sniffles was smaller, now that it was in his arms. _A kitten_. A cute one. He couldn't resist himself from rubbing the feline's stomach. Soft purrs escaped Mr. Sniffles. The kitten stretched out in his arms, like a toddler trying to sleep.

"How –"

The girl was staring at him. Her eyes were wide. Her smile was even wider. He found himself taking a step back on instinct. "U-um – I – er – got Mr. Sniffles down –"

"That was amazing!"

"Oh, no – it – it wasn't – I just…"

"You jumped up that huge tree without even having a running start! And that flip – oh, don't tell me, your quirk – it lets you do parkour moves?!"

"Um… kind of."

"That's soooo cool!"

He was smiling, but his smile was awkward. He hoped she didn't notice how awkward his smile was. "Um… can you… take Mr. Sniffles?"

"Hm? Oh! Right, right!"

The dark-furred bundle left his hands. He watched the way she cared for it. His eyes trailed her hands, the position in which she kept the cat. Almost immediately, he wanted to clear his throat and say something. _It's not my place – I mean – I shouldn't… I – should I? What if I she thinks –_

Mr. Sniffles jerked awake. The kitten swiped its claws at the girl's hands. He was moving before her hand left it. His hands launched out, catching the kitten mid fall.

"Ouch!" she said. "Damn it Mr. Sniffles!"

"Y-you… um… you shouldn't be holding him… like that."

She glared at him, holding her scratched hand. "What do you mean?"

"Um… you're… holding him by his neck. It… it probably hurts."

He extended his hands. "Y-you should hold him more gently. Like… like a baby."

"Hey what's your deal kid? You think just because you got Mr. Sniffles down from a tree, you think you're better than me at treating him?"

"No! No – I – I was just –" _I – I just wanted to help –_

The girl snickered, before laughing. "Relax. I'm joking."

"Oh." He said. _A joke. She's just joking. You can take a joke._

"So, Kid Parkour, you said I should hold Mr. Sniffles like this –"

There was some trial and error to the process. Enough so that she was holding the cat comfortably. Enough so that Mr. Sniffles did not protest at her hands. A decent method. _But she could be holding him more securely. If she were to space out her fingers and hug him closer to her chest – oh, no, that wouldn't work because her chest is um… ah – but if she were to properly make use of her biceps and brachialis to support Mr. Sniffle's weight, she could comfortably carry him and at the same time ease the tension on his spine. But if she didn't want to hold him, she could securely place him over her shoulder and prevent him from slipping by using her backpack as a makeshift cat-belt and keeping him at an angle that'll allow for three-dimensional movement without unnecessary jostling – _

"Well, thanks for the help Kid Parkour."

"Izuku." He said without thinking. "Midoriya Izuku."

"Tsuchikawa." She responded in turn. "Tsuchikawa Emiko."

_Tsuchikawa? _Midoriya's brow furrowed._ Isn't that – no, no, that's a leap. Just because she has the same last name and has a cat doesn't mean anything. But what if it did? No, it doesn't mean anything still. Even if they're related, I can't randomly ask her to get me an autograph – but if I did, would that be creepy? What if it upsets her? I don't know if I'd like it if everyone badgered me just because I have a relative who's a pro-hero – but wait – what if she's not, and she's just someone who has the same name? Won't that be worse? If she –_

A finger moved in his direction. His body moved as well. His hand was up, holding something before his mind caught up.

"Wow," said Emiko. "Good reflexes."

He was holding her hand. _Oh my god I'm holding a girl's hand._ He let go of her as if he'd been burned from the impact. "Um – ah – sorry –"

"You're in your head a lot, aren't you?"

He tried to smile. _I'm smiling awkwardly. Why am I smiling so awkwardly? _"I… guess."

"I guess I'll be seeing you around, Midoriya-chan." She said, turning around. "Thanks for helping me with Mr. Sniffles! Bye!"

She waved, once, and she was gone. Izuku rose his right hand, muttering softly, "Bye…"

He wished he could do that. Do what Tsuchikawa did._ Just leave a conversation without making it look awkward or wondering if the person has finished talking or caring if the person felt you were just trying to get away –_

Had she been trying to get away from him? Was it because he was too quiet? Was that creepy? He knew that some people found it creepy. He didn't want to be creepy. He hoped he wasn't creepy. He hoped he hadn't ruined the interaction by being too quiet. He wanted to talk, too. Be outspoken, too. Maybe even compliment her? She was pretty. He'd have liked to tell her, that he thought she was pretty. That he liked how cute she looked in that school uniform.

_Wait – school uniform?_

Midoriya glanced at his own clothing. The uniform of Aldera Junior High was clean and crisp. Ironed to a point in which the creases could be mistaken for blades. His left hand went up, the time on the digital clock glaring at him.

"Nonononono!"

Midoriya Izuku's feet began moving as soon as his mind caught up with the information registered on his watch.

"_I'm late!"_

The streets were a blur as he raced through. Dodging and ducking and weaving past obstacles and people like he was on an obstacle course of doom. His body moved first, and his mind followed second. _Shortcut – need a shortcut –_

His feet skidded to a stop in an alley. He ran, jumping off a dumpster, spinning into the air, and running up the side of a wall until he flipped off it and landed on the rooftops. _Faster_. Sprinting across obstacles on the rooftop was easier than he anticipated. Sliding underneath a line meant for clothes, dodging and weaving through the occasional heaters and miscellaneous vents, the biggest challenge came in leaping from one rooftop to another.

_Now!_

The distance between gaps was covered with effective timing. Landing required him to roll to bleed off momentum, but each roll was used to increase his speed rather than reduce it, furthering himself forward, faster, and faster –

This was something he understood only after getting his own quirk. The tiny ways in which having a quirk made life amazing. The little things in which contributed to a larger experience. The wind rushing in his face. The adrenaline pumping in his system. The excitement and thrills as he dodged obstacle after obstacle, climbed building after building, hopped rooftop after rooftop, ran on walls, flipped, cartwheeled, turned and tumbled –

A Quirk was not some esoteric, odd, foreign part of a person which was only meant to be used when given the green light. It was a part of him. It _was_ him. It was like a limb he always had but never fully utilized. An arm he'd been missing. A realm of experience he'd been locked from. In every conceivable way, having a quirk changed his life, and to not have a quirk – it was like being crippled.

"There!"

The school was within his sights. He leapt from the nearest building unto the street, careful to avoid pedestrians, and getting a few surprised shouts from his seemingly sudden appearance. With each breath he took, he timed himself, calculated the fastest route and headed for it simultaneously. He ran through the gates, past the gates, ran through the main doors, and past the main doors. He ran, pushing behind his exertion and only skidding to a stop once the familiar doorway was in sight.

Exhausted, he tried to catch his breath before opening the door.

"Midoriya-kun, you're late."

His teacher's voice came from behind him. Stern. Focused. Midoriya felt as if his heart was going to burst from the pressure.

"I – I didn't mean to! But – but there was this girl, and – and Mr. Sniffles – her – her cat – kitten – there was a tree and – and –"

"You were helping a girl get her cat out of a tree?"

His teacher's voice was rich with amusement. _He doesn't believe me._

"Y-yes – I –"

"No need to explain at all, Midoriya-kun. I understand you must be itching to use your recently discovered quirk to do some heroics."

"I – well – no, it's not like I –"

"Shhh." His teacher said, waving his hand. "There's nothing to explain at all. These things happen. And I can turn a blind eye to one of this school's finest young students. After all, you and Bakugo-kun are the ones planning on applying to U.A. aren't you? Yes, yes – there's no reason to mar your perfect attendance records."

The teacher didn't listen to him. _No, it's not that he's not listening… he's… he's… just letting me off?_

"Now, come on, let's enter. Class should have started already."

Izuku pushed open the door, forcing the usual smile on his cheeks as he entered the classroom. Immediately he was greeted by friendly smiles, cheers and waves. "Hey, Izuku! There you are!"

"Izuku, buddy, we were wondering what kept you."

"Izuku-kun, I've kept a seat right beside me. It's warm."

"Alright, quiet down! Class is in session!" The teacher barked. "Izuku, go on and take your seat."

He felt numb. Numb, even as he moved to the back of the class. No one attempted to put out their legs to trip him. No one snickered and whispered 'quirkless' or 'useless' as he passed. That girl who used to stare at him like an insect was looking at him with disturbing, predatory eyes. The two boys who used to toss spitballs in his ear were treating him like royalty.

He took his seat, quietly, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. It pounded so much that it felt like it was going to burst. Pounded so much that he was worried others could actually hear it.

"Oi." A voice came from his side. "You're fucking late Deku. What took you?"

Blonde-haired and perpetually scowling, Katsuki Bakugo was the only one acting… _normal_.

"I don't understand."

Bakugo snorted. "You make it sound like that's supposed to be something new."

He bit down on his lip. "Everyone is… acting different."

"You mean how everyone is suddenly kissing your ass?" Bakugo scoffed.

They weren't the words he would use, but they were not wrong. He nodded his head, slowly.

"Congratu-fucking-lations," said Kacchan, twirling his index finger in the air. "Now that everyone knows you've got a quirk and it's one that fucking blows theirs out of the water, you've graduated from mob trash to side character."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're fucking better than them, and they know it." Kacchan pointed to two boys. Deku knew them. They were Bakugo's cronies. The ones who followed him everywhere. "They'll stick beside you like white on fucking rice, because the morons believe that if they stand in front of a light bulb long enough, they'll start to glow."

Was that true? People would want to become his friend now, simply because he'd finally unlocked his quirk? They would give him special privileges, simply because his quirk was good? They'd turn a blind eye to the minor slip-ups he made, because of a power he was born with? An ability he himself had no choice in choosing?

"That's… that's wrong."

"What, are you fucking complaining?" Bakugo said. "Like you're any fucking different."

His chest burned. "I'm not like that."

"Then why the fuck are you even talking to me?"

"W-what?"

"I'm not an idiot, Deku. You were trash without a quirk. I let you know this every day. In your fucking face, every day. Yet you'd follow me with this stupid look on your face no matter what. That stupid look – you never stopped having it for one fucking day." Bakugou snorted. "At least, with the hangers-on I knew they were getting something out of hanging out around me cause they made it obvious. With you, it's like you felt chasing after my fucking shadow could make you more than trash."

"How does that make you any fucking different from them?"

He wanted to deny it. He wanted to tell Kacchan that they were friends. That they had been friends since before Kacchan got his quirk. He couldn't. He couldn't, because Kacchan was right about one thing. He _had_ been chasing after Bakugo. He'd been chasing after him, desperately. He looked up to him. He admired his confidence. His ability. His sure-fire cockiness and self-assured ways of doing things. His ability to not care about the opinions and thoughts of others and say whatever he felt was on his mind.

Was it a friendship, then, if all one person did, was admire and look up to the other? If one person, merely put the other on a pedestal, and placed them as a goal? Friendships were supposed to be give and take, supposed to be equal and reciprocal, but if all he did, was look up to Kacchan, if all he did, was get his inspiration and confidence from Kacchan without ever giving back anything in return… could it even be called a friendship?

Were they, actually ever friends?

_Have I ever done anything for Kacchan… as a friend?_

Something gnawed at his stomach. Gnawed at him. They were friends, weren't they? He should have, at least once, done something to help Kacchan. Something that Kacchan couldn't have done without him. Some sort of assistance, that he provided, or maybe, maybe a gift? Or – or –

_Kacchan's pride won't let him accept help_. _Or advice. It won't let him ask for it either. The only way he'd do that is if he saw me as an equal. But he won't, because I've been the one chasing after him for so long. If I beat him in a fight, it'll hurt his pride even worse. If I hold back, he'll know I did and things'll go sour. So… how?_

"Kacchan."

"What is it Deku?"

"After school… can you," _No, don't ask._ He tried again. "I… want you… to show me, some stuff, you think we can do… with our quirks."

"No."

Izuku deflated. "Oh."

_Don't just… take no! What – what would Kacchan do?_

"I'm… I'm not taking no for an answer."

"What was that bastard?" Bakugo's face lit up, tiny sparks emitting from his hand.

_Don't be afraid. Don't be – you – you don't have anything to fear from Kacchan. _"You – you heard me." Izuku forced out. "We – we're going to do stuff. Have fun. Like… friends. Good friends."

"I said I'm not interested Deku."

"I said I won't take no for an answer." _I didn't stutter! I didn't stutter that time!_

"Do you have a death wish?"

"N-no," _damn it, he stuttered. _"_You_ have a death wish."

"That doesn't even make any fucking sense."

"_You_ don't make any f-fucking sense."

_Oh my god I just swore._ He could feel the mortification from dropping the f-word so casually. He could feel some sort of… _thrill_ from dropping the f-word so casually. He observed Kacchan's momentarily stunned face, keyed in to his body language, his facial expressions, recalled his extensive vocabulary, and his subtle peculiarities.

Then, he fed everything into his quirk.

"You heard me," he said, his voice oscillating in tone until it reached the deepness and octave that matched Katsuki Bakugo phoneme for phoneme. "We're going to fucking have a blast with our quirks, and you're going to come along, sit down, and have fun, or my name isn't Izuku fucking Midoriya."

Too little, too late, he realized that he had been slightly louder than he intended to be. The gaze of the entire classroom was in their direction, in _his_ direction. Jaws were slack, mouths were opened, eyes were wide, and a piece of chalk dropped from the teacher's hand.

Midoriya Izuku, when faced with such an awkward situation, would have shrunk back in on himself, praying for a random blanket to appear and hide his mortification. However, at that exact moment, Midoriya Izuku wasn't the one present. Rather, it was Midoriya Izuku using his quirk to mimic Katsuki Bakugo. Of course, there was only ever one response Katsuku Bakugo possessed when faced with such a situation.

"What the fuck are you all looking at? Do we look like we invited you to sit down, drink tea and listen in on our private _fucking_ conversation? _HUH?_"

Like clockwork, the student's gazes snapped forward on instinct. Only two individuals were left staring. The teacher, and Katsuki Bakugo himself.

"Ah… Midoriya-kun –"

"_What?_"

The teacher cleared his throat. "Ah – er… that is an… interesting use of your quirk. But… er… do, keep it down, just a bit."

"Tch. Whatever."

The teacher returned to his board, the students gossiped, and, just as they believed the day could not have gotten any more ludicrous, a sound emerged from the back row that no one had ever heard, and no one ever believed they would hear.

It was the sound, of Katsuki Bakugo… laughing.

* * *

**A ~ P ~ N**

* * *

"Her, do her next."

Midoriya Izuku cleared his throat. "I do, surely believe, as an Oujo-sama of this distinguished family, that requesting me to perform such paltry tricks for your amusement is beneath someone of my station." The smooth, feminine voice flowed from his mouth with fluidity and grace.

Kacchan was amused, a fiendish grin on his face from the reaction of passersby when they heard the feminine voice, but failed to identify where it was coming from, or who was speaking.

"Try… All Might."

Izuku grinned. "_HAVE NO FEAR, CITIZENS! FOR I AM HERE! NO EVILDOERS SHALL ESCAPE THE MIGHTY POWER OF JUSTICE!"_

"All Might?"

"I heard All Might's voice just now!"

"All Might is here?"

Kacchan held his sides, covering his mouth with one hand as he tried not to bark in laughter. Izuku couldn't help but feel a little bit sad for the people who were now rapidly searching the area with their phones in hand to find the Symbol of Peace himself, muttering, whispering and conjuring theories about how All Might may have gained the power to turn invisible, or project his presence from a distance.

"Fine, I'll admit it," Kacchan said, regaining control of his laughter. "Your quirk isn't anywhere near as strong as mine… but it's fucking damn more entertaining."

"That's some really high praise coming from you Kacchan."

"Don't let it go to your head."

"I'll be sure to cherish the moment you praised my quirk forever, Katsuki-kun."

Kacchan's left eye twitched. "Alright. You sound more irritating than your usual fucking self. Who the fuck are you mimicking now?"

Izuku couldn't help himself. "The only person I'd ever want to mimic is you, Katsuki-kun."

"That's fucking creepy."

"But Katsuki-kun – I thought you liked it when people wore your ski – ouch!" Izuku rubbed the back of his head. "Fine – fine – I'll stop mimicking Hebimaru-sensei."

"That's who you were mimicking?" Kacchan shuddered. "No fucking wonder it sounded so gross. You know he's a slimy fucking bastard right?"

"Just because his quirk makes him part snake doesn't mean he's slimy."

"The fact that he's always loitering around the girl's bathroom makes him fucking slimy."

Izuku cringed. "I – I didn't know that."

Kacchan snorted. "Of course you didn't. You barely notice anything that happens around the school."

"I – I was always dealing with my own problems." Izuku admitted. "Not having a quirk. Not having any friends. Ka-chan stress eating. My own thoughts of how much I just wanted to give up. And you… Kacchan… you didn't make it any easier with your words and… I…"

Izuku bit his lip. "They… hurt. The words… more than the shoves or explosions in my face. Your words… hurt Kacchan."

"Why the fuck do you care so much about anything I say?"

"Because you're… my friend Kacchan. Or at least… the closest thing I have to a friend." Izuku said, awkwardly rubbing his hand. "Even though you berated me, and insulted me, and belittled my dream… we were friends before you got your quirk and left me in the dust. And I – I didn't want to lose that. I'd already lost my dream, lost my joy, lost my mom's peace of mind… and if – if I lost my only friend as well… it'd be like I lost everything. Everything. Just because I wasn't born with a quirk. I – I don't think I could have come back from that."

There was something off, about Kacchan. Izuku wasn't sure what he was. But… his fists were balled up. His expression was fierce. Fiercer than he'd ever seen.

"Ah – s-sorry, I didn't… I didn't mean to u-upset you –"

"What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?"

Izuku flinched from the sheer _anger_ in his tone. "I – I don't understand –"

Kacchan didn't say another word. The boy stormed off, leaving in an arbitrary direction. Izuku wanted to follow him. He wanted to find out what he said, or did that was wrong. He wasn't trying to guilt trip Kacchan or anything like that.

_I just… want us to be friends again._

He just wanted to have a friend, again.

He just wanted a friend.

* * *

**A ~ P ~ N**

* * *

Katsuki Bakugo needed something to vent on. He needed something solid, and sturdy, to bare the full brunt of his explosions. He needed to fucking unleash out the crushing sensation he was feeling in his chest otherwise he felt it just might explode.

_Fucking Deku –_

Contrary to what many would believe, Katsuki Bakugo was not incapable of empathy. He was not heartless, or empty, or cold, as many would believe. He understood emotions more than most, just that the emotion he understood the most was _anger_. Anger and rage. Right now, he felt those two things. He felt them, and they were eating him up inside, because the target of that anger and rage was one fucking annoying piece of shit.

A piece of shit named Katsuki Bakugo.

_Fuck!_

He kicked aside an aluminum beer can in his path as his teeth grinded against each other. It pissed him off. Pissed him off, listening to Deku. Listening to how someone he treated like trash, no, perhaps worse than trash, talk to him about them being friends. He wanted to call Deku delusional. Delusional and pathetic.

Yet, the real pathetic one was _him_.

Him, a person who desired to become a hero, to become _the_ hero, not even able to realize when a person needed saving. Not even able to see the harm his words and actions were causing. Too blind to his own stupid temperament and ego.

Did Deku even know, how he looked, when he spoke? He doubted the boy did. He doubted he could see how he looked. How tired, he looked. How empty, he looked. Shattered. Broken. Worn. _Desperate_.

Bakugo was pissed. He was pissed at himself. He was pissed on Midoriya's behalf. He was pissed, because he knew that damned Deku wouldn't get mad at him. He knew, that damned Deku wouldn't even ask for an apology, wouldn't care if he never gave him an apology, would merely go on and continue acting like Bakugo's own words and actions had not been the final straw that broke the camel's back.

He hated that Midoriya wasn't upset with him. He would have taken that. It would have been easier, to handle that. To handle resentment. To handle rage and scorn. To take all of his hate. It was worse, that Midoriya wasn't upset with him. Didn't demand anything of him. Didn't make it easy, for him. Didn't provide a means or an out for him. All Deku wanted from him… was to be his friend, even after… _everything._

Deku chose to forgive him.

And that made Bakugo unable to forgive himself.

It gnawed at him. Ate at him. Burned deep within him. A sense of overwhelming revulsion for himself. Of disgust, for himself. A nausea that struck every time he pictured Deku's face, Deku's empty, hollow face, as the boy narrated how he'd been struggling, and how, Bakugo, the only person in the world he saw as a friend, made those struggles _worse_.

Three seconds later, Bakugo stumbled into an alley and heaved the contents of his stomach into the nearest trash bin.

_Fuck._

Katsuki Bakugo didn't want to be a piece of shit. He didn't want to be that sort of scum. That type of pathetic. Even villains and bastards didn't try to make life harder for their fucking henchmen. Yet alone friends. Yet alone someone who wanted to be a hero.

_Some fucking hero you're going to turn out to be._

He'd make things right, somehow. He knew, he had to make things right, somehow.

He just wished he could figure out how.

* * *

**A ~ P ~ N**

* * *

"Here, kitty… I've brought some snacks for you."

The stray cats of Musutafu were wary of strangers. They did not approach most people, and were skittish around those with particularly intimidating mutant quirks. Izuku liked that the cats seemed to like him. Animals, seemed to like him. They were nice. He liked animals too. Though he wasn't sure about keeping an animal as a pet. It felt wrong, in some ways. He knew that there were pet owners who did the absolute best for their animal companions and treated them with love and care, but there were also a lot of pet owners who did the opposite. He didn't like those type of pet owners.

"Is it okay if I give you a name?"

The black tabby in question didn't seem to mind. It purred, rubbing it's face against Izuku's outstretched hand. It reminded him of that girl he met in the morning. Of her kitty, Mr. Sniffles who'd been stuck up a tree.

It felt good, to help people in need. It made him feel better about himself, whenever he could do something to make someone's day shine just a little bit brighter. He wanted to do that, to make people's day shine brighter, bit by bit. He wanted to be the type of person he wished he could have met.

"How's… Kuro?"

The cat purred, it's tail swaying from side to side.

"You don't like it? I guess it's kind of too common a name…"

"Shinigami."

The voice came from behind him. He didn't startle. He heard the footsteps, long before they had arrived. Though, they weren't his usual footsteps. They didn't seem to have the same level of confidence to them. The sound wasn't like he knew. Wasn't at all like he remembered.

"I don't think that's a good name for a cat Kacchan."

There was a moment's pause. Izuku looked at the cat. "What do you think, would you like to be called Shinigami?"

"You could add a title to it. Make it formal. Kickass. Like… Sir. Sir Shinigami. It'll let it know the other cats know not to fuck with him."

Izuku couldn't help his lips twitching. "How about, Sir Kuro the Shinigami?"

"It's a hell of a mouthful for a damn cat."

"Sir Kuro the Shinigami it is. We can call him Shin, or Gami, or Kuro – or just Sir. What do you think, Sir?"

"There's no fucking way I'm calling a cat, _Sir._"

Izuku picked up the newly minted Sir Kuro, holding him into the air. He spun on his feet, gesturing the cat forward. "Think fast!"

"Oi – Deku you –"

Kacchan had good reflexes. Enough to catch Sir Kuro. Enough to keep the cat at arm's length. Kuro purred, stretching out and rubbing his whiskers against Kacchan's palms. The blonde's eye twitched, and he shot a murderous glare at the cat.

Kuro ignored it and started to lick his fur.

"I think he likes you."

"He's fucking ignoring me."

"That's how you know he likes you."

Kacchan snorted. Izuku dusted his palms, and threw his head back. "I'm tired. I'm going to head home before Ka-san starts to get worried."

"Hey, De –" Kacchan stopped. "I...Izuku. Wait."

He couldn't remember the last time he heard Kacchan call him by his name. His actual name. Not Deku, or trash, or mob, or loser, or nerd – but his name. He couldn't remember the last time. The last time Kacchan stood, his face a cornucopia of emotions, his eyes averted to the side, his stance solemn… _defeated_.

"I –" Kacchan opened his mouth, but stopped. Izuku could hear the grinding of teeth. The dry licking of lips. The swallowing of saliva. He could see the accumulation of sweat. The shortness of breath. The slow, unsteady, shaking of hands.

"I –"

"Hey, Kacchan." Izuku said. "Do you want to come over to my place and play videogames?"

The tension left his shoulders. Izuku knew. Izuku could tell. He knew, because he understood what it was like, to have something eating at him from the inside. He didn't know what it was that was eating Kacchan up, but he knew, sometimes, the best way to get rid of that feeling – was to simply have someone around you.

"Video…games?" Kacchan repeated.

"I started playing, recently." He smiled awkwardly. "Ka-san bought me a console and several new games after I unlocked my quirk. I think she's trying to spoil me, you know, to make up for…" He trailed off. "We can play _Heroes Smash V._"

"That's… the new one… isn't it? With All Might?"

Izuku took Kuro out of his friend's hands. He reached into his back for one final treat, dropping it in front of the cat, and rubbing the creature's ears for good measure.

"Come on, Kacchan," Izuku said.

For once, he didn't look back, as he kept walking. He didn't agonize, if the conversation was over. He didn't ask, perhaps, if the boy had different thoughts. Izuku Midoriya wanted a friend, but he knew, and understood, that not everything was meant to be. So he walked, he walked, ignoring the tiny pit in his stomach when he didn't hear footsteps trailing behind him. He walked, ignoring the churning bitterness in his mouth when no footsteps followed. He walked, forcing down the lump in his throat at the silence.

And he walked.

"Oi! Izuku! Wait up damn it!"

And a sensation unlike any other rose from his chest. The sound of footsteps echoed behind him, and for the first time in what felt like eons –

Midoriya Izuku was happy.


	2. Needs

**Author's Note:** **Happy New Month folks! It's fourteen days to Valentine's and I know I'm gonna spend it binge-playing Breath of the Wild on Master Mode to find all 999 Korok Seeds. But my lack of a love life is not the tragedy you're here to read.**

**A lot of reviewers were suspicious about this story because of the seeming lack of death, blood, guts and gore that accompanies my usual creations in the first chapter. Some believe it's a trap to lull you all in, while others seem to be of the opinion that I've been replaced by an alien.**

**To address this: I'll be honest, the Boku No Hero Academia world is a place where I don't _need_ to make it overtly dark. It's... pretty dark enough on it's own when one looks underneath the underneath. Not saying that things won't get darker (that's kind of a given with me) but just sit back, relax, and let the tiny implications make your mind go "Oh shit" before yours truly takes that shit and shoves at at 343 m/s at the nearest ceiling fan.**

**Cause shit always hits the fan, ladies and gents. It always hits the fan.**

**So for now... enjoy.**

* * *

**A Precise Note**

* * *

"You fucking _can't._"

He and Kacchan argued again. Izuku didn't like it when they argued. He liked it even less, when Kacchan said some of the things he said. When Kacchan was pessimistic about things in the world. When he reduced people to being only the weak and the strong. The user and the used. When he made it sound like everyone was terrible.

"I can!"

"Izuku – be fucking real."

"All Might does it."

"All Might never _loses_," Kacchan snarled. "He never fucking loses. But that doesn't mean he fucking saves everybody. Check the fucking listings. Endeavor has solved more bloody incidents than All Might – and even then, Endeavor has never, ever saved _everyone_."

"Then I'll be the type of hero that saves everyone."

"Stop saying such cheesy bullshit like this is one of those those stupid comic books and manga!" Kacchan yelled. "You're just going to fucking kill yourself if you try to save everyone. You're going to fuck yourself over if you try to please everyone. That's your problem Izuku – you're a fucking people pleaser. You _want_ a world were everyone is your fucking friend and you can hold hands and sing kumbaya, but that shit doesn't happen. It can't happen. You'll make enemies just by breathing. Make enemies just by taking the last slice of pie on a tray that someone else wanted. The problem is, you'll be too fucking dense to even realize they're your enemies, and when you do – it'll be too late."

Midoriya didn't see things that way. There was good, and then there was evil. There were people, flawed people, but flawed people needed second chances, help, assistance. Then there were those who were beyond help. Those who used their flaws and troubles as an excuse to hurt others. As a justification for picking on the weak. He didn't like those kind of people. He liked it even less, that Kacchan was sometimes among those type of people.

Their entire argument had started over a game of _Heroes Smash V_. First, the discussion and pre-game banter. Then, the post-game swears from Kacchan as he lost, time and again. Then, he mentioned the type of hero he wanted to be. Kacchan followed and talked about the kind of hero he wanted to be as well.

They did not see eye-to-eye on the issue.

Kacchan wanted to be the strongest hero. The type of hero that never lost a single battle. The ones that villains would flee in terror from, because his presence evoked that sensation of fear and doom. A hero whose mere existence made evil cower, running with tail between legs.

Izuku wanted to be the kindest hero. The one who went out of his way to inspire hope and uphold justice. The everyday man's hero. A figure who would fight grand evil, but was never to busy to help a cat out of a tree, or an old lady across the street. The kind of hero that the people loved and adored, and a hero that would never fail at saving anyone who needed saving.

Kacchan took objection. He said, it wasn't possible to save everyone who needed saving. Izuku took objection. He believed it was. The argument snowballed from there.

"I'll prove you wrong."

"And how the fuck are you going to do that?"

Izuku bit his lip. "At school. I'll – I'll help everybody that needs help. I'll tell them, _I AM HERE!_ So – so they know that they can always have someone to count on in their time of need. If – if I can help everyone, help everyone without issue – then you'll believe me when I say I can save everyone too."

Kacchan scoffed. "You'll fucking regret it Izuku."

"I won't. I love helping people."

"Izuku you're basically saying you're going to let yourself be a fucking doormat. It's like a lion choosing to cut off his claws, shave his mane and fucking expose his neck to a pack of hyenas. They'll slaughter you."

Izuku frowned. "People aren't as bad as you think they are Kacchan."

"You're right," Kacchan agreed. "They're fucking worse."

Kacchan was becoming more and more of a pessimist than Izuku remembered. He didn't know why that was. Why his friend was always quick to see the negatives. He'd always been foul-mouthed and hot-tempered, but he'd never had such little faith in other people. The fact that he wanted to be a hero, not to save people, but to stop villains, was already something that Izuku could not wrap his head around.

"You'll see Kacchan." Izuku said. "I'll show you what kind of hero I'm going to be."

* * *

|**A Precise Note|**

* * *

Aldera Junior High was abuzz the morning Izuku made his announcement to his class. Standing high on a table, forcing down the rapid beating of his own heart and his own lack of confidence, he channeled his inner Katsuki, and made his declaration.

"If there's anyone who needs help with anything at all, um – y-you can ask me, and I'll try my best to help you out!"

One lizard-eyed student narrowed his gaze. "What's the catch?"

"Um – there's no catch. I just… want to help out as many people as I can."

"With your quirk?" another student asked.

Izuku rubbed the side of his head. "Well… if it's something that my quirk can help with… then… yes?"

The whispers and murmurs travelled through the classroom at the speed of light. Izuku could feel his chest pounding even harder at the sudden rush of excitement that everyone seemed to have. Why exactly were they so excited?

He glanced at the back row, finding Kacchan scoffing while doing his best to act uninterested with the whole thing. _Just wait, Kacchan – I'll show you –_

Midoriya Izuku liked to help people. There was a satisfaction he got from helping others with their problems. He didn't even really want gratitude. He didn't need gratitude. He just _wanted to be there for people_. He wanted to be there for people, because there was no one who was there for him. And he knew how terrible that felt. He hated how horrible it felt. When there was no one in your corner. No one to smile and tell you to chin up. No one to believe in your dreams and tell you to never give up. When no one, not even your own mother, believed you could accomplish your dreams.

For the first few hours, class proceeded as normal, and no one asked him for anything. At least, until halfway through the third period, when the teacher called out a student to help clean the chalkboard. The student, grumbled, before suddenly jerking his head back.

"Hey, Izuku-kun, do you mind helping me with the blackboard?"

The eyes of everyone in the class was on him. "Um – oh – okay –"

The teacher rose an eyebrow, but said nothing. There were whispers, chortles and chuckles. Izuku stood, grabbed the duster, and in three _precise_, smooth movements, the board was wiped spotless. The entire process barely took two seconds.

The teacher whistled quietly. "My, Midoriya-san. That's impressive. Your quirk?"

"Y-yeah."

"Go on, back to your seat."

He dusted off his hands, taking his place beside Kacchan, who was trying his hardest not to stare at him. "Oi – Izuku. Better call it quits now."

"What are you talking about?"

"You don't know these bastards like I do. You never got to know them because you were always dealing with your own shit. But if you don't call it quits now, it's going to get fucking worse."

"You're paranoid Kacchan."

Kacchan scoffed. "Don't say I didn't fucking warn you."

"Midoriya-san, hey, hey, my right hand is feeling kind of sore… can you help me copy the notes?" A pug-faced girl asked.

"Ah… well, I can help…"

"Thanks!"

She tossed her book over to him, leaned back in her chair and started subtly pressing her phone underneath her desk.

"Hey, Izuku – my hand's kind of sore too."

"Yeah, me too."

"Me as well – must be the weather."

The books piled, one after the other. One after the other, until half of the students in the class were snickering, and Izuku's table was overflowing with a dozen notebooks.

_This is fine. _He took a breath. A soft, long, deep breath, and he sent his two hands to work. The snickering stopped abruptly as everyone turned to stare. His left and right hands were blurring. _Blurring_ from movement. Faster than the human eye could track, Midoriya Izuku's two hands moved in tandem. Words appeared upon pages in fluent, _eloquent_ kanji. It was less of him writing and more of him _printing, _as his handwriting could effortlessly be mistaken for a computer-generated document.

The books slid, one after the other, circling and juggling in the air as he wrote them all, leaving no room for error, no margin for mistake. He copied the teacher's words on the board just as the man wrote them, and for him, a person whose goal was to be a hero that saved everyone, writing a dozen notes simultaneously was something he could manage.

"No way…"

"He's like a computer."

The bell rang. The teacher dropped his chalk, just at the exact moment Midoriya Izuku wrote the final characters and closed the books. With a flick of his wrists, the books spun in the air like shuriken, rushing to their appropriate owners.

"And that's all we have time for right now – and why are you all staring at Midoriya?"

"I was helping them out sensei. A lot of people's wrists seem to be sore for some reason, so I helped them out with the notes."

"Is… that so?" The teacher cleared his throat. "W-well – then, carry on."

No sooner did the teacher leave, did the class burst into excited cheers and mutterings. "Yo! Izuku that was fucking cool!"

"Your quirk is awesome!"

"Midoriya! The boys are going to shoot some hoops. We'd love for you to join us. You don't have anything doing right? Come on!"

"Er… sure. Why not?"

Kacchan was still skulking. Izuku gave him the peace sign. He _knew_ he could do it. That he could help people. And the way their eyes all lit up at him, the way they were excited, happy with him –

"What's the hold up?"

"I'm coming!"

Lunch break wasn't all that long, so, he knew that once he'd helped the boys out with shooting hoops he'd go straight back to helping other people. The basketball court wasn't far off from the main playground and swings. It was, kind of, his first time ever, playing basketball. He wasn't sure of the rules. He didn't really know how to play.

Yet, the second the ball was tossed in his direction, he knew what to do. He bounced, once, twice, rose his arm, and –

"A three pointer?"

"Damn."

"Izuku… were you using your quirk?"

Izuku stared at his hands. "I… I wasn't."

"Huh. Make him go a bit farther – let's see how he fares. And no using your quirk."

The distance was such that he could barely make out the net. Yet, the second the ball entered his palms, his body moved on instinct. _One, two, bounce and –_

"Holy shit."

"He made the shot? How the hell did he make _that_?"

"You cheated. You used your quirk, didn't you?"

"No… I-I… didn't."

"There's no way you would have made that shot without your quirk."

"But – I –"

"Whatever. Come on, let's just have some fun."

There wasn't much fun to be had. He couldn't be dribbled. No matter what strategy they tried, no matter how they attempted to fool him, _it didn't work_. His eyes saw through it. His body moved on instinct. Reflexes activated on their own accord and prevented anyone from getting past him.

It was even worse when _he_ was the one doing the dribbling. He bounced the ball at speeds most couldn't follow. He could stop his movements and spin on a dime. He could slip through the tiniest of spaces without being touched. If he didn't _want_ to be touched, _he couldn't _be touched. His reflexes would activate on their own and prevent anyone from getting close to touching him. Preventing anyone from getting close to touching the ball.

"Hey, Izuku – I think… we think maybe you should go."

"Go?"

"Yeah. It's… no fun with you. You're too broken man. Like a cheat character. Seven us ganged up and we couldn't even touch you."

"Oh. Um – maybe, maybe we could play something else?"

"Like what?" One of the boys scoffed. "Every sport requires reflexes and timing and stuff. It'll just be a repeat of this."

"Yeah. Sorry, Izuku – but – we don't think you should participate in sports anymore."

"It wouldn't be fair to any side to have you on a team."

"Oh," he said, quietly. "Um… okay… but… if you need my help with anything else… I'll be here."

"Yeah, yeah whatever."

He made his way away from the court, but his ears didn't. They were more acute than most. Acute enough to catch their muffled conversation before he left.

"Ugh, Midoriya's a freak."

"I can't believe I preferred him when he was quirkless. Now he's got a quirk and he's fucking looking down on all of us. Getting payback for all the stuff we did to him."

"Is that what he's doing?"

_No – it's – it's not –_

"Come on. I mean, standing up in front of the class and saying he'll help out anyone who asks for his help? He's doing it to make us all look incompetent."

"Compared to him… we kind of are."

"It's not our fault he's got a freakish quirk. How's anyone supposed to compare to that?"

He wanted to march back and tell them that they were wrong. That he wasn't trying to upstage them. To make them look bad. He couldn't. He couldn't, not without revealing that his quirk augmented his hearing. Not without making himself appear even worse.

"Hey, Midoriya! There you are!"

Izuku's head snapped up. Another one of his classmates approached him, waving his hand eagerly. _Matsuda,_ Izuku remembered his name. "Been looking all over for you dude. I need your help."

Something swelled in Izuku's chest."Sure! I-I'll help! What do you need?"

"Do you mind using your quirk to help me draw a portrait?"

Izuku blinked. It wasn't quite what he'd expected or anticipated, but it was still someone asking for his help. "Um… I haven't tried drawing with my quirk yet… but I-I'll see what I can do."

"Great! It has to be a portrait of Akari-chan!"

_Akari? _She was, arguably, one of the prettier girls in the class. Actually, _the_ prettiest girl in the class. Although she was also known for being cold. _He wants a portrait of Akari? _"Er… I… I think I can do that."

"Great." The boy said. "Also, I need you to…" he leaned in, whispering the details of the portrait into his ear. With every word, Izuku's eyes grew wider, his face grew hotter, and he barely let the boy finished before pushing him away.

"I – I can't – that's… that's…"

"Of course you can!" The boy patted him on his back. "Your quirk lets you do anything you want with absolute precision doesn't it? This'll be nothing for you."

"I mean… I shouldn't. It's… _wrong_. She – she won't like that – it's – it's wrong –"

"Come on Midoriya-kun. It's just _art_. Art! Besides, didn't you say you'd help anyone who needed it? Why can't you help me with this?"

"It's… it's wrong! I – I can't do that!"

"So, you're saying you can't help me? Is that it? After standing up in front of the whole class and telling everyone you'd help them… in the end, you were just all talk?"

"No!" Izuku bit his lip. "I – I mean…" Could he? "Why d-do you even _want_ s-something like that?"

Matsuda stared at him. "Are you… gay or something?"

"W-what?"

"I mean, you and Bakugo are kinda close, I didn't want to assume – not that there's anything wrong with it –"

Midoriya spluttered. "I'm not! We – _we're not –_ we're just friends!"

"Then why're you asking what I want to do with the portrait? Obviously, I'm going to add it to my spank bank."

"Y-your… w-what?"

Matsuda stared harder. "Are you _sure _you're not gay? Wait, no, even gay people know what a spank bank is. You're not asexual or something are you?"

"A-asexual?"

"It means you don't get hard when watching porn."

Midoriya felt a new amount of heat rush to his face. "I – I don't –"

"You don't?"

"W-watch p-p-porn." he finished. "I – I don't watch –"

"Bullshit," Matsuda scoffed.

"I – I'm serious."

There were several seconds of terse silence before Matsuda's eyes widened in realization. "Holy shit. You're not pulling my leg?"

Midoriya nodded.

"Huh. I thought guys like you were only an urban legend, or a myth that self-righteous people spread to make the rest of us feel bad." Matsuda muttered under his breath. "So how do you get off? Don't tell me you use your imagination or something. That'd be one hell of an imagination."

"G-get… o-off?"

"You know?" Matsuda made several forward and back movements with his right hand. "Jack it off? Beat the chicken?" Midoriya stared, blinking in confusion. "Holy fucking shit, you can't tell me you've never heard of masturbation. Are you from the Sengoku era or something?"

_How did this conversation get to this point? _Midoriya coughed into his hand, trying his hardest to avoid eye contact. "I… don't d-do that…"

"So… what, you just go around ignoring the urges?" Matsuda rubbed his chin. "Or, is it that puberty hasn't kicked in yet for you?"

"U-um – I-I think w-we've gone o-off track –"

Matsuda waved his hand. "No, no, we're on the right track. I wanna know how it's like for other people – or maybe if it's just me."

"W-what?"

"My Quirk," Matsuda said. Midoriya looked even further confused. "You don't remember what my quirk is? We all had that class where we showed our – oh that's right. You were quirkless back then. You probably didn't show up."

Matsuda grunted, letting out a large, bear-like growl. In a manner of seconds, the boy's muscle definition grew. It grew and continued growing until his shirt was several sizes too small, on the verge of ripping, and his entire physical form was reminiscent to that of bodybuilders. The most notable difference, however, was his face and arms. His face was overridden with thick, bushy beards. His arms as well were incredibly hairy.

"My quirk is called Man Up." Matsuda's voice was deeper, far more baritone than before. "It makes my entire body flood with testosterone to develop muscles and tons of hair. It makes me pretty antsy for a fight, energized, a bit short tempered… and horny."

The boy's muscles deflated like a popped balloon. His facial hair receded back to whence they came, and his uniform was crumpled from the transformation.

"The thing is, as a side-effect, my quirk makes my body secrete at least five times more testosterone on average than most guys. I started puberty when I was six. I had a full beard when I was eleven. I constantly have to shave every morning, but the worst part is how hard it gets whenever I so much as get a glimpse of a girl's legs… or skirt… or thighs… or… well, any part, really."

"Oh."

Midoriya didn't know what to say. He wasn't sure, what to say. He'd heard of people's quirks having unintended consequences or issues that altered their biology and led to problems they themselves had no control over, but it was his first time actually realizing he knew someone like that.

"That's… hard."

"Was that supposed to be a pun?"

Izuku's eyes widened. "No – no – I was – I mean –"

"Relax," Matsuda chuckled. "You're not wrong. I wear three pairs of boxer shorts everyday, and sometimes, it's still not enough to hide it. The worst part is during P.E. classes – it's like they're _trying_ to make my life more difficult."

"Um… have you tried, talking to specialist?"

Matsuda nodded, grimacing. "Put me on some treatment for hormone imbalance and what not. Tried to counter the testosterone production with estrogen. It… it didn't end well."

There was more to the story, but Midoriya couldn't find it in him to ask.

"So, yeah," Matsuda shrugged. "I watch a ton of porn. I read a lot of doujin and watch hentai too. I'm pretty sure there's no hentai on this planet you can name that I haven't watched. Kinda wish there was a trivia contest for that sort of thing – I'd take home the gold any day."

"S-so the reason you want a portrait of Akari-san –"

"I – I – kinda like her," Matsuda admitted. "Nah, that's an understatement. I'm head-over-heels for her. Just her looking at me makes me harder than porno of mutant-type girls hitting it with a guy with a tentacle quirk. I asked her out, you know. She says she's got a boyfriend who's in his second year in senior high. Going to one of the top hero academies to boot. And me? I'm just the guy whose quirk makes him always horny. I can't really compete with that can I?"

Matsuda clasped his hands in front of him. "So I just need a portrait, Midoriya. A picture. Something to have as a consolation. A cathartic object. I don't care if people think it's disgusting, or wrong or whatever. They haven't walked in my shoes. They don't know what it's like, to constantly feel like I feel. To have to jerk off five times a day on average just to think straight. It's not my fault I was born like this – but at least – at least I'm trying my hardest."

Midoriya Izuku's throat felt dry. _This…_ It was more complicated than he thought. It would have been easier, if it was just a request from some sort of deviant, but Matsuda was… different.

What was the right thing to do? To draw porn of his own classmate to help a person with peculiar circumstances, or to refuse, and leave Matsuda to suffer on his own in silence? To condemn him for something that wasn't entirely in how own control – wouldn't that make Izuku like the very same people who looked down on him, simply because he'd been born without a quirk?

_I'm… I'm not really hurting anyone… and… and if it's for a good cause –_

"I – if… if you promise not to tell anyone, not to _show_ anyone, not to mention it to _anyone_ –"

The boy's face lit up. "You have my word – no one will know of Akari-chan's portrait but myself and my right hand."

Izuku cringed. "S-swear on it?"

Matsuda's hand rose to his chest. "I swear on my mutantgirl hentai collection."

His heart thumped heavily in his chest as they made their way over to a secluded corner. Littered with cigarette stubs and several empty cans of beer, it was an area the delinquents used. An area Izuku never believed he would have a reason to get near to.

He took a deep breath before grabbing the boy's drawing book, Matsuda-san, Izuku recalled his name, and reaching for his black pen.

"You're using a pen? To draw?"

"Y-yeah?"

"Why not a pencil? So you can erase mistakes?"

"My quirk… it's named Precision… it - it doesn't make mistakes."

"Pretty badass claim. Let's see if it's true."

The entire process started at once. The image was fueled from his mind. From the description of details Matsuda told him. To finding and finetuning his own mental image of Kobayashi Akari. His right hand dropped the pen upon the paper, and it _moved_.

The image from his mind fed directly into his hand. The drawing was not made conventionally, rather, his hand moved as though it were a printer, or typewriter, artificially printing out an image from right to left, and top to bottom. The entire process was a blur. His hand moved faster than his own brain could process. The pressure and speed of the pen on the paper was such that it felt as though the object was gliding. Skating across ice.

After a solid thirty full seconds, his hand came to a stop at the bottom, and Midoriya Izuku stared at what he had created.

"W-whoa. Fuck. It's… um… there's a word for this kind of art…. Realism? No, what was it?"

"Photorealism." Izuku whispered, staring at the portrait.

A portrait of a classmate. A portrait of a classmate so stunningly drawn it was indistinguishable from a photograph. Had Midoriya not been the one to draw it himself, he would not have believed someone actually drew it. He would have believed it was a picture with a filter applied on top. A portrait of a classmate, naked. A gag in her mouth. Her hands bound forward. An aroused, defiant look.

Each second he stared at the portrait, he felt something stir within him. An overwhelming heat rushed to his face at the realization that _he_ drew this. _I drew this._

"Yo, Midoriya, if the whole hero business doesn't pan out… you'd make a bloody fortune as an artist."

"A-h-hah…" Izuku's mind was not focusing on that. It was focusing on his art. The art he drew.

_I drew this_. _How did I draw this?_

He'd never seen a pair of female breasts before in his life, except in biology textbooks. Never accurately studied human art or anatomy. How did his quirk get all the details right, such as Akari-san's dual piercings, to her belly button being outward rather than inward?

"I don't think I've ever heard of anyone being stunned speechless by their own art before." Matsuda chuckled.

Izuku's attention came back to reality. His mind shifted gears, no longer focusing on the art, and more on the eroticism. He'd never watched porn before. It wasn't like he had the time to sit down and focus on such things like normal kids his age when he was too busy being quirkless. He'd never masturbated either as a result. Nor could he ever remember having a crush on anyone.

_Was it… possible?_

"Um… Matsuda-san… is it… is it possible for someone's quirk to affect them, like… have a side-effect on them, without them realizing it?"

"Well, yeah." Matsuda nodded. "I know of a girl in another school whose quirk kicked in and turned her completely invisible. Turned out she never realized it, and didn't understand why people were running away from the floating dress and shoes." The boy shook his head. "Stuff like that isn't uncommon. Why're you asking? You think your quirk has a side-effect you never noticed?"

"W-well… my quirk makes my reflexes and h-hand-eye-coordination precise. Like… r-really, really precise. I o-once caught a fly out of the air b-by its wings w-without killing it. A-another t-time, I d-dodged a baseball c-coming at m-me from b-behind without e-even knowing it was coming."

Matsuda shrugged. "Seems pretty standard."

"B-but… w-what if… my quirk also affects… m-my insides? Like r-regulating my b-blood, or – or s-stabilizing my h-heartbeat, o-or –"

"Affecting the secretion of hormones?"

Izuku nodded, slowly. "Making _everything_… p-precise."

"Woah. That'd be insane." Matsuda said. "Have you like… tested it out?"

"Tested?"

"Yeah. I mean, we know you can precisely mimic people's voices and body language like what you did with Bakugo in class… so that means your quirk affects your voice-box and affects your brain to be able to make you mimic someone's personality… and _that_ means your quirk _does_ affect your biology – so…" Matsuda hummed. "Try… making your teeth precise."

"My… teeth?"

"I mean, gotta start small. Worst case scenario you make them all fall out. Still better than messing with your stomach or brain or something."

Izuku closed his eyes. _Making my teeth more precise? How would that work? How can someone's teeth be more precise?_

He opened his eyes. "I-I don't think I can –" Matsuda was staring. "W-what?"

The boy wordlessly reached into his pocket, brought out a cellphone and opened the front camera. Izuku blinked, and he blinked again at his _pearly white_ dentures. _Shining_ dentures. More than that, the teeth were perfectly aligned. Upper and lower, all perfectly aligned when he closed his mouth.

"Wow."

"Did you feel anything happen in your mouth? Pain? Discomfort?"

"No – I – nothing."

Matsuda nodded. "Well, there's your answer. If your quirk can instantly make your teeth shine and make them perfect without you even noticing a difference… it's not hard to believe that your quirk is doing other things to your body that you have no idea is happening."

Izuku was not sure he liked that realization. He was highly uncomfortable with that realization. _My quirk could be… affecting me without me realizing it?_

"Anyway," Matsuda grabbed the portrait of Akari, rolling it up and slipping it into his bag. "Thanks a bunch for the help Midoriya."

"It's… it's nothing. I said I'd help anyone I could."

"Yeah, but everyone knows that words are cheap. It takes a real man to say something, and stick to it despite his reservations. And that's coming from a guy whose quirk is literally to become a manly man."

Matsuda gestured out his fist. Izuku stared for a few seconds. "Um…"

"It's a fist bump, man. Don't tell me you've never been fist-bumped."

_I… haven't. I didn't have anyone to fist-bump with –_

Midoriya Izuku's right hand stretched forward, his fist meeting Matsuda's on. A strange, foreign sense of exhilaration and excitement rushed through him. The fist-bump. _A_ fist-bump. He fist-bumped someone.

_Am I… making friends?_

"If you ever need an expert on pornography and endocrinology, I'm your guy."

"Thanks… Matsuda-kun."

_I'm making friends._

"Now on to more serious issues, how the hell have you never masturbated before?"

"U-uh, l-look at the t-time –"

"Oh, nononono – you're not going anywhere until I teach you about one of the finer aspects of being a man. So basically, there are different grip styles, but the standard version typically looks like this, and you'll need something to lubricate –"

Midoriya Izuku could feel his face burn up with each word that Matsuda spoke. His own inexperience and slight uncomfortableness with the subject matter at hand was prevalent, and he wanted to do nothing more than slam his hands over his ears and shut out the words and thoughts.

He didn't. He didn't, because he could see Matsuda's face. The excitement on it. The eagerness at which the boy narrated and talked, explaining lewd concepts and judging indecent material with the same flair as a wine connoisseur. There was fervor, and passion, and zest, the kind at which Izuku remembered having when he used to talk about heroes. The type he had when he talked about All Might.

"You…. You're really passionate about this… you Matsuda-kun?"

Matsuda scratched his chin, awkwardly. "Yeah… I guess. I haven't told anyone else this but… when I get older, I want to become an adult film star. There isn't much else I can see myself doing with my quirk. If I tried to take a normal office job or something… my libido would just get me into trouble. Rather than being the sleazy guy who everyone'd know can't keep it in his pants… I'd rather just take a job where I'd be praised for not keeping it in my pants."

Matsuda grinned, giving him a thumbs up. "So, if you haven't gotten laid when I make it big, I'll be sure to introduce you to tons of hot girls Midoriya."

Izuku, couldn't help it. His lips curled, softly into a smile. Then, they opened, and he laughed.

"Hey! I'm serious here!"

"I – I know. It's just…"

_You – you've been looking for someone to talk to… about this, haven't you? Someone who'd listen… someone, who wouldn't judge you…_

_A person who'd be there for you._

Everyone… everyone deserved at least that, didn't they? Everyone deserved, at least one person, who'd root for them, no matter how odd, or how weird, or how unusual they were. No matter how crazy, or mad, or _impossible_ their dreams –

_Everyone deserved at least that._

"I'm… rooting for you, Matsuda-kun." Izuku said, gesturing his fist forward. "Y-you can do it. Go beyond… plus ultra."

Minoru Matsuda stared, eyes widening for several seconds. His lips, too, curled into a smile. "Thanks… Izuku."

Midoriya Izuku nodded, unable to stop himself from smiling. He knew, one day, Matsuda-kun would accomplish his dreams. Because ultimately, despite it all, Matsuda-kun wasn't a bad person. There were people in the world, who'd have done worse, much worse, with such a quirk. Who'd have used their quirk as a justification for their behavior. Matsuda-kun wasn't like those people.

_To keep looking at the bright side despite getting a bad hand in life…_

People like that, in Midoriya Izuku's opinion, were true heroes.

"Oh, yeah, you want to be a hero don't you Izuku? If that's the case, I gotta show you one of my favorites, it's a parody of the 18+ only hero Midnight in her debut outfit that created the regulation for how much skin hero costumes are allowed to show –"

True heroes indeed.

* * *

**|A Precise Note|**

* * *

"What's got you grinning so much?"

Class, for the most part, resumed as usual after the lunch break. Izuku couldn't keep still, smiling and humming softly underneath his breath.

"Kacchan, did you know there's porn for every single mutant-type quirk out there?"

Katsuki Bakugo choked on his own spit. Coughing out loud in the middle of class, before snapping his head to Izuku and staring at him as if he was looking at an alien lifeform.

"What the _fuck?_"

"It's kinda… nice? Don't you think? No one is left out, and – and everyone has something for them. Everyone has someone who likes something they do, and… won't judge them for liking it too."

Kacchan rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Did you fucking hit your head or something?"

"I've… just been thinking, Kacchan." Izuku said. "You were wrong. Sure, some people… some people are mean… but it's because everyone has different stories. Everyone… has their own little problems. We don't see it… and – and so, a lot of times we think someone is angry or cruel… when they're simply just… sad... and lonely."

Katsuki Bakugo snorted. The boy's gaze didn't meet Izuku's own. Midoriya felt, strangely, that Kacchan was trying to avoid meeting his gaze.

"Hey, Izuku-kun, my hands getting kinda sore again –" the same pug faced girl, what was her name again, Rainu? "Do you mind?"

"Ah, s-sorry," Izuku managed to look sheepish. "But… I'll be helping you more by not helping you… I-I read that it's better for studying if you're reading your own notes than someone else. And, I – I don't want to be the reason your grades slip, Rainu-san."

"But – my sore hands –"

Izuku reached into his bag. "I-I g-got some hot packs y-you can use? And, um… I could h-help you massage your hands after class?"

The girl in question muttered under her breath. "Great."

Izuku beamed. He felt great, to think ahead and bring hot packs for everyone that'd had sore hands. That way, rather than taking care of the symptom, by helping them write their notes, he'd tackle the disease at its source, by making their hands better. That way, they'd still be able to do their homework once they got home.

Kacchan was staring at him oddly though. Izuku wondered why it was.

"Why the bloody hell are your teeth so shiny?"


	3. Progress

**'Nother day, 'nother chapter.**

**So, reading the reviews have been rather entertaining. Now, now, people, I know I can be unusually cruel to my protagonists, but come on... if there's anything I am, it's that I'm not predictable. Do you really believe I'd make things progress in such a cliched direction like many of you are anticipating? For shame. For shame.**

**Also, interestingly, no one noticed Matsuda's last name the previous chapter. Or perhaps, no one paid attention to it? Ah well. **

**Enjoy ~**

* * *

**A Precise Note**

* * *

The living room was spotless. The remote was directly beneath the T.V. and the boxes for the game consoles were arranged top to bottom, color-coded from red to green to blue, and then sorted in alphabetical order.

"Izuku-kun… are… are you alright?"

Her son's nose was buried in a book. _Advanced Anatomy_. Beside him were numerous others, stacked, arranged and neat: _Acupuncture for Acute Pains. Memory Palaces for the Mental Masters. Biological Diversities of a Superhuman Society. A Discourse on the Physiological Adaptations of Quirks and it's Ramifications on Human Civilization. An Essay of Quirk-Related Psychological Phenomena and the Argument of Determinism. The Quirk Genome and the Question of the Penultimate Stage of Human Evolution. _ Thick books. Heavy, dictionary-weight books. "Is something wrong ka-san?"

"No, nothing – just –" _You're making me worried. _"H-how are things going with your Quirk?"

"Great."

"Has – has there been… anything odd? Or… do you feel… different?"

"No. Why?"

She swallowed the uneasy lump in her chest. "You… cleaned the house."

He nodded, never lifting his nose form the book.

"You did the laundry. Vacuumed the rug. Ironed the bedsheets. Mowed the lawn. Painted the fence."

Another nod came, his fingers idly turning the page.

"You also rearranged the living room," she said, her voice slowly increasing. "And the dining. And the bedrooms. I found a bag of our plates and silverware in the trash. Along with our old pillows. And old clothes. And – and – your _things_."

"They were wrong."

Midoriya Inko's heart started throbbing faster. "Wrong?"

The book her son was reading closed with a snap. She was reminded, slowly, upon seeing his face, just how much had changed in the past three months. She would never have called her son unattractive by any means, quite the contrary. Izuku had always been her bundle of joy, and as his mother, her son was always the most beautiful boy in the world. But she was bound to say that because she was his mother, and many would deny it being an objective statement.

Except, now, it wasn't merely motherly tendencies speaking. Her son was growing, and each day he appeared more handsome than the day that came before. The freckles he possessed seemed to have found a perfect way to appear on his face that did more to enhance his appearance than diminish it. The layer of baby-fat she'd loved so much to see had somehow vanished and flattened out, giving her son a more eloquent, angular look. His hair, which he'd kept a spiky mess for so long, somehow managed to smoothen on its own, and she knew, from washing it and putting it into the ponytail the boy now wore, just how unbelievably silky it was.

If Izuku woke up one morning and told her that he was going to become a male model, she wouldn't have any doubts as to whether or not he would succeed.

"Ka-san, we were wasting a lot of space with the rooms. Things weren't positioned in a way that made full use of the room while highlighting its aesthetics. I just put things in the proper order to make it look nicer and be more… precise."

"And the plates? And silverware?"

He grimaced. "I… I couldn't stand looking at them. They weren't… the method they were created with… it was… it's like…" Izuku stumbled over his words. "Like looking at something that doesn't… click. Bad designs? A square peg in a round hole or – or a chessboard with more white squares than black."

"They looked perfectly fine to me."

"One of the forks had a prong that was four centimeters shorter than the rest. And – and one of the butter knives was made with the edges facing the wrong side –"

"And your… clothes?"

"They're no longer my size ka-san."

Midoriya Inko's heart was beating fast. "Even… even your All Might pajamas…?"

"You know I stopped sleeping with anything on after I got my quirk."

After he got his quirk. That was it. That was when everything started. The moment in which things had changed completely. She never brought up the event. She tried her best to not think about the event. About how her son's quirk hadn't just _manifested_ while he slept. He hadn't just woken up one morning and realized that his ability allowed him to be impossibly precise in anything he did. He never told her, the full story, of why she'd caught him, doing what he did, when he realized he possessed an ability. She never brought it up. Sometimes, she wished it was something that was a figment of her imagination.

She'd felt, things would be different, after he got his quirk. She was right. She just had the wrong idea about what type of difference it was. She'd assumed, life would advance smoothly. Her son would go on to accomplish his dream of becoming a hero. To become an excellent hero. That they would grow closer, together. That the awkward air and long silent dinners would end. That he would talk to her more, laugh more, be open, more. That for once, they could be happy, together.

And for a short while, they were. He told her, everything. He talked more, was passionate, more. He mentioned how his days went, and how his classes went, and what he did in school. They were growing closer, getting closer.

Then, one day, he'd confessed to her something he did. Something he did, and was proud of. And she'd been appalled. Incensed. She remembered the argument, remembered telling him, sternly, that he was wrong. That he should never do such a thing again.

She called the parents of the boy who'd made the repulsive request. The item in question was found, and destroyed. The boy in question was punished, harshly. She did it, because she knew that the boy was taking advantage of her son's kindness. Making her son do the wrong things for the wrong reasons.

Izuku hadn't seen it that way. He'd been angry. Angrier than she'd ever seen him. He believed, with all his heart, that he was helping the boy. Trying his best to assist the boy. In the heat of the argument, some words had been spoken that could never be taken back. She remembered them, bitterly.

"_He wouldn't have shown anyone! He had the portrait for weeks and never showed anyone! He was my friend! I believed in him! I believed in him like you could never believe in me!"_

The words had stung. She'd cried herself, quietly to sleep. It stung worse because it was true. Because once she'd been told that her son was quirkless, she'd lost hope. She didn't believe. She'd broken down, knowing that her son was forever deprived from his dream. Even when he tried his hardest to aspire to be a hero in spite of his quirk, she'd looked on with hollow smiles and empty words of encouragement.

She never believed he'd be able to be a hero.

And it hurt her, it hurt, more than anything, the realization that she had never believed in her own son's dream.

Things hadn't been the same after the incident. Neither she nor Izuku had apologized. She, because she knew that no matter the motives, what Izuku did was wrong, and Izuku, firm on his belief that he did the right thing, and angry that she'd cost him his friendship.

For the most part, they both went forward, putting the entire incident behind them. But Izuku wasn't as close to her as before. He didn't tell her his thoughts anymore. He didn't talk about his day anymore. It was as if she was living with a stranger or guest than living with her own son.

Most of the time, he was either at the Katsuki Residence, or the local library. He only ever came home to cook, eat, sleep, and get a change of clothes. Midoriya Inko didn't know how she would be able to make her son get close to her again. How she would make her own son trust her again.

"I'm heading to Kacchan's place."

The boy bundled his books together into his bag and swung it over his shoulder. Inko bit down on her lip. "Oh – alright. You – you'll be home in time for dinner, right?"

"I will." He slipped on his shoes at the front of the door. Without so much as a 'goodbye', Midoriya Izuku opened the door, and closed it shut behind him. Midoriya Inko could only take a deep breath, bite down harder on her lower lip, and force back the dull, aching throb in her chest, as she asked herself, time and time again –

_How?_

* * *

**XXXX**

* * *

He hated this.

"Stand –" _hated _"fucking –" _hated_ "still!"

He hated how the boy danced around his movements. How he did it with his nose buried in his fucking book. How he managed to weave out of the way of his explosions before the blasts could touch him. How he continued to ramble on about some stupid concept or some boring study about quirks he was reading about. How he never stumbled or slipped, even as his feet pirouetted and spun.

"So, Dr. Mashimoto proposed that it's possible for villains who use their quirk to not be held accountable for their crimes, due to certain quirks that trigger activities and impulses in the brain –"

He grit his teeth, roaring with all his might and slamming his two hands in front of him. "IZUKU!" The explosion was _loud_. It almost deafened him. But his body was strong. He'd trained his body for a long time, to get accustomed to the recoil of his blasts. His bones were stronger. His flesh was tougher. His ears were already used to the shockwaves. His hands did not care for the heat or the pressure, but he knew, if he pushed his quirk to utmost limit, his hand wouldn't be able to take it.

He did it anyway.

He planned this move to be his finisher. His coup de grace. He hadn't named it yet, but he was going for something like Howitzer. He didn't care for the name. He just wanted to win. He wanted _to win._

The dust settled. The smoke cleared. The blasted green-haired ponytailed annoyance was nowhere in sight.

"There've also been incidents of people turning to villainy because of societal pressure and them being perceived that they have a villainous or evil quirk. Once the Pygmalion Effect kicks in, people who could have otherwise been heroes end up being shunned –"

"DAMN IT!" he spun around on instinct, palms already firing a blast into empty air. His eyes widened at the realization that no one was behind him. He'd fallen for it, _again_. _Fucking Izuku and his fucking ventriloquist bullshit –_

He spun back as quickly as he could with his palms ricocheting him, and a single finger stretched out, poking him in the forehead. "Kacchan, tag." The boy said. "So, anyway, I think there's more to this whole thing than we realized. It's not that I don't like getting special treatment for my quirk – I just don't like it when other people are - are you even listening?"

"What the fuck do you think?!" he snarled. _He hated this feeling. Hated it. Hated it hated it hated it._

Both his arms were burnt. Aching. Throbbing. Sweat was dripping down his form. Soaking his shirt. Trailing from his forehead. He was panting, heavily. Exhausted. Tired. And yet – _yet –_

_He hasn't even broken a fucking sweat –_

Izuku's book closed with a snap. There was something, noticeably different, about him. It was the confidence. The fucking confidence. That was it. That was all that had changed between the past three months. With Izuku helping every fucking person that so much as asked for a dime or a penny, he did it with increasing flair and increasing gusto, he talked to more people, and reduced his muttering and stuttering, and the more people he helped, the more he talked to, the less he became worried about talking, the more confident he became.

Of course, Katsuki knew too well what it was like. To have an awesome quirk. To be born gifted. People adored Izuku now. They worshipped the fucking ground he walked on. He got discounts from shops. Free meals at the cafeteria. Invites to events. Of course, the green-haired idiot was the type of person who didn't want special treatment. He liked it, yes, but he didn't want it. He turned it down. And just because of that, he got slapped with the title of being 'humble' and it made people eat up whatever it was that he did even more, simply because the boy didn't have it in him to brag.

"That…" it took him a second to catch his breath. "That shit you mentioned… the pygmalion whatever. That's the self-fulfilling prophecy thing isn't it?"

Midoriya blinked twice. No matter how much the nerd's face had stopped looking nerdy and started looking too fucking pretty-boyish for Katsuki's tastes, there was no hiding that same stupid grin he always had.

"You were listening."

"Of course I fucking was," he muttered under his breath. "I can fucking kick your ass and still listen to your nerd-gibberish." He rose his partially burnt hands. "You explained that shit once. Something about how what we do to other people impacts what other people believe about us, and cause them to behave a fucking way to us, which reinforces our own beliefs about ourselves and go back full circle to influence the shit we do to other people."

Katsuki wasn't stupid. He could connect the dots between the stuff Izuku was always going off about and the shit that happened to him. He wasn't subtle at all in that regard. That self-fulfilling shit was what happened to Izuku. When he was quirkless and pathetic, he got told every day that he was quirkless and pathetic, and in return, he believed he was quirkless and pathetic, so he acted quirkless and pathetic, and that made others correctly believe he was quirkless and pathetic, and treat him like he was quirkless and pathetic.

Things had changed now. Now, he had a great quirk and went out of his way to help people with his quirk. Other people knew he had a great quirk, and treated him like he was great for it. Being treated great for his great quirk made him feel great. And cause he felt great… he _acted_ it. And because he acted great, people believed he was great, so they treated him like he was great, and on and on the fucking cycle went.

Katsuki didn't mind. He fucking liked that Izuku was finally growing a pair of balls on his own. The problem he had was with the fucking annoying fact that Izuku would stop whatever he was fucking doing at any point to help someone in need. No matter fucking what, the nerd couldn't resist helping someone in need, even when he fucking _knew_ that the person might be using him.

"So… what, you're saying that there's people out there who'd become villain scum just they're born with a shitty quirk that'd make them good at being fucking villain, and everyone treats 'em like villains cause of it?"

"Exactly!" Izuku nodded his head fervently. "It's wrong!"

Katsuki snorted. "It's how things are. If they don't have the guts to say fuck off to their haters, that's their problem."

"But things don't _have_ to be that way Kacchan! Don't you see?" Izuku said. "Being a villain is the symptom, not the disease! If – if we could find the disease at its heart, and stop villains _before _they even become villains –"

"Then what? You'd put heroes out of fucking business?" Katsuki snorted. "That whole idea has fucking holes. You're forgetting assholes that are assholes just because they want to be assholes. Not everyone has a fucking sob story to justify why they're an asshole."

"Then – then with those ones, we'd help them – try to reform them –"

"And what'll you do if they don't fucking want to be reformed?"

Izuku pursed his lips. "Then… we make them reformed."

Katsuki's brow rose. "Make… them? Like what… brainwash them?"

"It's – I mean, it's better than locking them up all for life and letting them rot away somewhere when their quirks can still be used to help people, or save lives, or make the world a better place –"

Katsuki's brow rose a bit further. "Oi, you need to stop reading those fucking books of yours Izuku."

"But –"

"If you really fucking think that brainwashing people to do shit you want them to do is a good fucking thing, then you're a bit more fucked up in the head than I thought."

Izuku frowned. "It's not like I'm suggesting to steal everyone's free-will – just villains who choose not to be reformed. Is making them rot away in a jail cell supposed to be better?"

"It's their fucking choice. They fucking chose, and it's not in your place to play god and tell 'em to choose differently."

Sometimes, Katsuki didn't want to admit it, but he fucking preferred Izuku before he got his quirk. _Sometimes._ The boy was mopey, and a crybaby, and pathetic, and a ton of different shit that got on his nerves… but at the very least, he didn't have so many fucking crazy ideas. He wanted to be a hero, and that was that. He didn't care much else for being a hero. Or do much else outside of wanting to be a hero. That one-track-mind on one goal was admittedly relatable.

Quirk-Izuku… was something else. He didn't like violence, but would beat you into shit if it meant protecting someone. He would kowtow his head to the whims of anyone so long as they had a good enough sob story. It wasn't that he wasn't kind – that was the boy's fucking problem, he was _too_ kind. He related too much with every-fucking-one and every-fucking-thing. He wanted to be a hero because he wanted to save as many people as possible. He wanted to save _everyone._

The problem was, quirk-Izuku was proactive.

Heroes were fucking reactive by nature, and Izuku didn't like it. They acted only in defense, they spoke up only after spoken too, they arrived to save the day once the disaster had happened and the villain had struck.

Izuku wanted to be a hero that prevented the disasters. That stopped the villains before the villains even had time to fucking _be_ villains. That intervened without being asked, and prevented evil before evil could happen.

Katsuki believed that was less of being a hero, and more of being a god.

And Midoriya Izuku was bull-headed enough to pursue after that goal regardless.

"How'd you get out of the range of my attack?" he asked finally. "It's been fucking bugging me. Your quirk gives you super-reflexes and all, I fucking get that. But it doesn't give you super speed or let you fucking teleport. Your major weakness is widespread attacks that you can't dodge or evade. But you somehow fucking got out of range of it anyway."

Izuku blinked, as if remembering something. "I was never in range."

"What do you mean you were never in fucking range? You were right in front of me –"

"For the brief second when you charged your attack…" Izuku pursed his lips. "But there's about three seconds of delay before you activate a powerful move, Kacchan. Also, when you use stronger explosions, your blasts obstruct your view. I used those seconds between your wind-up and your attack to get behind you."

Katsuki's eyes slowly widened. "Wait, so when I fucking heard your voice behind me –"

"I was… actually behind you."

"But I turned around –"

"And I mimicked your movements and turned around with you." Izuku explained. "Like… a sleight of hand trick where you hide a card in between your fingers, and because of different angles perception, it isn't seen by people in front of you, but can be seen by those behind."

_Fucking… hell…_

Katsuki Bakugo grumbled underneath his breath, feeling his irritation grow even worse at the realization that he'd been tricked. _Three seconds of fucking delay? How the fuck did you even –_

"Next time… Izuku… I'll fucking kick your ass."

"I'm looking forward to it, Kacchan."

As it stood, Katsuki Bakugo had never beaten Midoriya Izuku in a fight. However, Midoriya Izuku had never actually beaten Bakugo in a fight either. That was because Midoriya never actually fought back, and all he did was dodge and evade. The fights ended whenever Midoriya touched him a certain number of times, which was designed to also help Bakugo's own evasive abilities.

The first time they fought, Bakugo had been pissed at being unable to hit him, insisted that Midoriya fought back, and hadn't stopped attacking until Midoriya did something. Something, that till this day, Katsuki Bakugo would take to his grave.

He… _tickled_ him.

_He tickled_ Bakugo.

No one in Bakugo's entire life had ever had the balls to attempt such a thing, and so, without ever having attaining a resistance to it, Katsuki Bakugo was very, _very_ ticklish. It was a weakness that Midoriya had exploited without a lick of guilt, tickling Bakugo until the boy literally passed out wheezing from laughter.

He woke up pissed, and ready to fight –

And Midoriya tickled him into unconsciousness a second time.

Bakugo stopped trying to force Midoriya to fight back after that.

"It's getting pretty late. We should get back in time for dinner. I'll even help your mom cook –"

"You go anywhere near my kitchen again and I will gut you."

"We both know I have the better knife handling Kacchan."

"Every time you cook, your turn it into a bloody science experiment."

"I can't help it if I want to be precise when cooking."

"I caught you fucking counting the grains of salt Izuku! The fucking grains of salt!" Katsuki yelled. "And you were flicking away perfectly good rice with some bullshit that they weren't tall enough!"

"But – they weren't!"

"It's fucking rice! It's not supposed to be tall!"

"But it shouldn't be shorter than the other rice grains in the bowl!"

"Who the fuck cares?!"

"I care! My mouth would notice the difference if some rice grains were shorter than others!"

"Then tell your mouth to suck it up, and manage the uneven rice like everyone else!"

_God damned fucking Izuku…_

* * *

**XXXX**

* * *

It was a new week at Aldera Junior High, and Katsuki Bakugo walked down the hallways with his friend. As always, the boy was grinning, letting those stupidly shiny teeth out to blind unsuspecting people with them.

"Hey! Izuku-kun! Looking good man!"

"Thanks Natsu-san!"

"Hey, Midoriya-kun, good morning!"

"Morning Yatsuhara-san!"

"Hey, Izuku-kun, I – I've got to get these books to the teacher's office – mind giving me a hand!"

"Sure thing!"

Katsuki Bakugo shot a heated glare at the boy who gave the request. His right eye twitched, his right hand came up, tiny sparks and explosions dancing around his thumb and index finger. Then, with that thumb, he dragged it along his neck, and spun his neck to the side. The mob got the message immediately.

"A-ah – d-don't worry about it! I-I shouldn't r-really be b-bothering you –"

"It's not a bother at all."

"I mean it's t-training! Y-yeah! I'm… strength t-training! B-bye!"

The boy scurried off, moving through the halls with the books in hand, and leaving Midoriya scratching the back of his head. "That was weird Kacchan. Why'd he ask for my help if he was training?"

Katsuki snorted. "Why the fuck does anyone do anything?" He slung his bag over his shoulder. "Whatever. Let's go."

Katsuki knew that class was dull for the most part. There wasn't much the teacher said that he already didn't know. And if there was something he fucking didn't know, the odds were 50-50 that Izuku knew it. Class had become Izuku's time for something else, which was, for the most part, bringing out his fucking encyclopedia-sized books and reading them. The teacher couldn't call him out on it, because Izuku was still taking fucking notes with his right hand to the side, and he was still listening to the teacher, so he could answer questions whenever he was asked.

_Multitasking_ was something that Katsuki knew most people couldn't really fucking do. One way or another, one task would take more precedence over another, unless the person trying to do multiple shit at the same time possessed multiple limbs and a brain that could fucking control all of those limbs simultaneously.

_Great… now even I'm fucking zoning out of class. _The Explosion Quirk user found the teacher's lessons boring. Izuku was a better teacher, though he'd never fucking admit it to the boy's face. When Izuku explained a concept, he never needed to explain it twice. Somehow, it just clicked. Just… stuck. Of course, it was his shitty quirk working, and Katsuki knew it. His quirk could make Izuku the fucking best teacher in the world, because he knew exactly how to teach people at a pace and standard that was wholly, and completely unique to them.

So Katsuki found his mind wandering through class. Thinking about Izuku's stupid observations about stuff. One of those his books that he read, talked about how the difference in Quirks caused differences in physiology of people. Katsuki had never found himself wondering why only the sweat of his hands could secrete the nitroglycerin stuff he used to make his explosions until Izuku brought it up. He'd checked, of course, whether sweat from other parts of him could do it to, but there'd been no cigar. Just his hands. Which meant, just the sweat-glands in his hands. Which also, meant, if he ever lost his fucking hands – he'd be quirkless.

Mutant-type quirk users were fucking different. Their entire physiology was their quirk, and even though it sometimes made them into fugly looking bastards, they never had to worry about losing their quirks if they ever got disabled.

It wasn't that Katsuki believed such a thing would fucking happen, but he couldn't dismiss possibility. He wasn't going to become a wide-eyed bullshit naïve hero that'd believe everything would always work out and end well. He wanted to be the strongest hero, the fucking greatest hero, and you couldn't be the greatest hero if you didn't know your own weaknesses. Know your own weaknesses well enough that you'd have a fucking plan in case you faced off against someone who could figure it out too.

_Thinking about weaknesses –_

He glanced at Izuku from the corner of the eye. "Oi… Izuku."

"Hm?"

"If you wanted to take down Suzume…" he pointed to a girl in the front row. "How would you do it?"

The boy's eyes never left his book. "Easily…? Suzume-san's quirk lets her feel the emotions of other people around her. She's not really… good in combat. I'd just knock her out with a hit to the side of the head."

"And him," he pointed. "Natsu-san?"

"Natsu-san's quirk lets him absorb sunlight and make himself glow – it's not really combat oriented either–"

"How about sensei?"

Izuku's right hand stopped moving. He rose his head from the book, his pen lightly touching his lips in contemplation.

"Sensei's quirk is Stretchy Fingers isn't it? He can stretch his fingers up to eight meters… The best thing I could think of would be to restrict his movements by tying his fingers together when they stretch in my direction. I could also use them to tie him up, and he won't be able to untie them by himself…"

"Then," Katsuki said, "All Might."

"W-what?"

"If you wanted to beat All Might… how would you do it?"

"Why would I ever want to fight All Might?"

"Maybe he gets mind-controlled by a villain, or it's his evil clone or whatever. Doesn't matter. How would you do it?"

Midoriya Izuku's fingers steepled in concentration. "I… would try to avoid fighting him. Or… use distractions to keep him busy."

Katsuki's brow rose sharply. "What do you mean, distractions?"

"All Might's speed, strength, and power is too high to overcome. His stamina is something else too, so I can't win in any category."

All at once, Katsuki knew he'd gone too far once Izuku regained his atypical muttering.

"I could try to neutralize All Might with something that'd render him unconscious such as a gas – but – no, that won't work, All Might's resistance to most harmful chemicals is known, especially in that fight with Toxic Chainsaw… an alternative tactic would be to make All Might surrender on his own, but that would require a hostage-like situation, and if it's against an evil clone of All Might, he wouldn't care… So, the only way to stop All Might would be to be able to withstand the power and speed of his attacks and deliver them back in equal or superior quantities? A counter? Shock Absorption? No, Shock Nullification? A quirk which can reflect damage? But that's not taking into account All Might's own determination – so – it wouldn't work for too long – unless I can nullify All Might's quirk, but – that's not possible, not unless I have the Erasure Hero, Eraserhead on my side, but I don't see how I would – well, unless it's an Evil All Might we're talking about – but then – that wouldn't really be me stopping him –"

"Oi, Izuku, don't bother."

The boy stopped his muttering. "H-huh?"

"All Might… he's the strongest hero." Katsuki said, now more convinced than ever. "If even your bullshit quirk can't think of way to beat him on your own… then there's no fucking doubt about it."

It gave Katsuki a small amount of comfort. It lit a fire underneath him, as he realized just how much farther he had to go, to be able to reach that level. To stand at the top. To be unrivaled in strength, speed and power. He'd get there, someday. He knew he'd fucking get there.

He just had to work five times as fucking hard as he'd ever before. He'd been too complacent, up until now. Too self-assured, up until now. Izuku's Quirk had been the eyeopener. The bitter-fucking-pill that grounded him. So far, he'd been gifted, and so far, he'd never truly worked hard.

Now, though, Katsuki wasn't going to sit back. He was going to work himself into the ground, until he reached a point where he could bypass Izuku's bullshit reflexes. Make himself fast enough, to bypass a person whose reaction was faster than the speed of thought.

_Wait… speed of thought?_

"Oi… Izuku… do you think… you could dodge a bullet?"

"Er… I… might?" The boy scratched the back of his head. "I mean, I've never tried, but… I think I maybe could?"

That was fine, Katsuki thought. Now all he needed to do, was making himself faster than a speeding bullet.

* * *

**XXXX**

* * *

The school day came to a close, and Midoriya Izuku stretched his hands and slung his backpack across his bag to prepare to head home. For some odd reason, throughout the entire day, people had approached him for help, but then, they'd suddenly change their mind at the last minute and scurry away from him.

He'd asked Kacchan why it was happening, but Kacchan was his usual self, and didn't seem to care one way or another. Izuku was trying to find what the outlier was today, and the only thing he could think of, was that Kacchan had been with him throughout the entire day. Was it that people were naturally intimidated of Kacchan, so they wouldn't approach him as much as before?

No, it couldn't be that. Kacchan wasn't actually that scary at all. In fact, he was a bigger softie than he let on. So, what exactly was causing them to turn around and walk away?

He decided to test it out, telling Kacchan that he had somewhere to be. He actually _did_ have somewhere to be, but there was no reason why Kacchan couldn't follow him.

"Where's that?"

"It's uh… kinda secret."

Kacchan's brows rose. "Secret?"

"I'm meeting up with Matsuda-san."

"Matsu –" Kacchan frowned. "That pervert that's always hiding his fucking boners in class? What the hell are you meeting him for?"

"He said he wanted to introduce me to some people he knows –" Izuku said. "Fellow… _comic book_ and manga enthusiasts. Y'know? It's an… a… club."

"A fucking Otaku Club?"

"Well…" Izuku scratched the side of his chin. He couldn't deny it at this point. "Yeah."

Kacchan rolled his eyes. "Nerds. Fine. Whatever. We'll meet up tomorrow."

"Sure. See you later Kacchan!"

Ever grumpily, Kacchan waved back and muttered a goodbye of his own. Ensuring he was out of sight and earshot, Izuku Midoriya gripped his fist, and allowed himself to smile. "First, let's see if anyone around the school needs my help."

Most of the students not in extracurricular clubs had already gone home for the day, and Izuku spent his time walking around the school to ensure there was no one in need of assistance. He found, in some empty classrooms, a jotter, a pen, some books and rulers left behind by students. He made sure to pick them all up, check the registers for who was in what seat, and ensure that he'd give the missing items back to the owners the next morning.

Some classes were dirty with litter and packaging, and Izuki made sure to dispose of them in apptopriate bins, while cleaning out any dust and grime. He went, from classroom to classroom, using the spare chalk he could find to leave encouraging messages for the first students that'd be in school in the morning. From things like "You can do it!" to "Try your hardest everyone!" and "Go beyond! Plus ultra!" all accompanied by chibi-styled artworks of All Might grinning.

At the very least, the following morning, the first students in class would have something positive to start their day with.

"Ah… it's getting late."

Leaving the school premises, Izuku followed the long way around to get to the train station. He stopped a bit, to help catch a child who's ice-cream had fallen out of his scoop, to assist a group of younger students cross the road, and took a detour through the park, where he met with his ever favorite animal companion.

"Sir Kuro-kun, how's your day today?"

The cat purred, rubbing its cheeks against Izuku's legs.

"I can't stay and play with you for long, sorry. But, I saved up some snacks from lunch. Takoyaki – your favorite."

Feeding and parting ways with Sir Kuro the Shinigami, Izuku found himself troubled when the cat kept following him long after leaving the park. "Sir Kuro… you know you're not being stealthy."

The cat meowed. Izuku sighed. "Fine, I guess you're coming along with me."

Sir Kuro fitted snuggly inside his backpack, and Izuku ensured to leave the zipper open enough for the cat to peep his head out and get some oxygen. Taking the train from Musutafu to the Kamino Ward, Midoriya Izuku reached out into his bag, careful not to disturb Sir Kuro, and reached for one of the books he was reading.

_Acupuncture for Acute Pains._

Finding the bookmark where he stopped, he indulged himself in the contents.

…_despite originating from Ancient Chinese Medicine, and often being underestimated by individuals of a science background as to having no perceived health benefits, the existence of quirks and the formation of a superhuman society provided the populace with the realization that things once originally thought and believed to be myth, possess deep roots entrenched in reality. The art of acupuncture is increasing in popularity, with numerous schools, such as the School of Apotheosis formed by Master Tang-Li, a man whose quirk allows him mastery of the energy of Qi – enabling him to perform activities once believed to only exist in the realm of fictional Wuxia novels._

_Master Tang-Li has proven, with his mastery of the Seven Inquiries, the benefits of acupuncture not only on relieving pain, but also on affecting other aspects of the body, such as chills and fever, perspiration, appetite, thirst and taste, defecation and urination, and sleep. The focus of this book however, is on relieving, alleviating, and eliminating sensations of pain, but, we shall also glimpse shortly, into the other areas of the Seven Inquiries, and learn how Acupuncture can stop fevers, improve or regulate appetite, and even cure individuals of insomnia –_

The train came to a stop at the designated station, and Midoriya Izuku bookmarked his page once more, and slipped his book back into his bag. Hauling it over his shoulder carefully so as to not wake Sir Kuro, he made his way to his destination.

_Matsuda-kun said it was a bookshop called The Hero's Jump…_

Navigation of environments was easy, even in locations he'd never been to before, because once Izuku took a simple glimpse at a map through his phone, he didn't need to look at it a second time. A precise, accurate layout of it stuck in his head. He learned the technique from another book he had, called _Memory Palaces for the Mental Masters._ He needed to thank Matsuda for the recommendation.

Marsuda wasn't joking about memorizing the names of every single hentai doujin he'd ever read or watched. He hadn't been exaggerating. The boy had done so, and he'd learned memory techniques just to ensure that he would always remember them.

Izuku hated that people saw Matsuda as a bad person, because of his hobbies and proclivities. He wasn't. He was just a person, like everyone else, doing his best with what he had. That was why it filled Izuku with guilt, when he'd made the mistake of disclosing what he'd done for Matsuda to his mother.

His mother hadn't understood. She didn't know Matsuda. She didn't believe that Matsuda was not some deviant or some sort of horrible person.

The fault, Izuku knew, lay with him. It'd been his fault, for trying to tell and explain everything he did to his mother. To try and ignore the ache of the past and move forward with her. Yet, once more, a _second time –_

She didn't believe in him.

That was all he ever wanted, from her. To believe in him. Was it… too much to ask? Was it?

He'd expected Matsuda to be angry at him. Pissed at him. Genuinely upset at him. Instead, when they'd met in school, after he'd been punished at home, the boy had shrugged, shook his head, and said: "_I'm already used to it."_

It stung Midoriya. Stung, that he'd betrayed someone's trust by trusting someone else. Not even Matsuda-kun's parents had any trust or belief in him, and for Izuku, a person who'd trusted him, to later do something that was akin to betrayal –

Izuku steeled his mind and his breathing as he approached his destination. _The Hero's Jump_ was a comic shop, that was true, but it also seemed to double as some sort of… café, or library. Walking into the place, the bell chimed softly, and he could see rows upon rows of bookshelves filled with contents, collectible All Might, Endeavor and Hawks action figures and posters on sale. There was, unsurprisingly, an 18+ section, which had a yawning teen in uniform sitting in front of, most likely to deter younger people from entering.

"Hey, Izuku! Over here!"

Matsuda waved him over, from a seat with three others.

Swallowing down his own hesitation and awkwardness, he approached the group.

"H-hey Matsuda-san –"

He rolled his eyes. "Drop the -san already. Don't tell me you're still thinking about that stuff that happened?"

He was.

Matsuda waved him off. "Forget it. It's in the past. Parents will be parents. So, so –" he hung his right hand over Izuku's shoulder. "Izuku-kun, allow me to introduce you to some of my friends! The Legion of Hentai Aficionados!"

There were two boys present, and one girl. One of the boys seemed to have something like a speech-bubble for a head. Another one was short, with purple-hair that seemed to be curled into round balls. The third one, the girl, was the oddest one of the group. Oddest, considering she looked distinguished. With pale skin, cat-like eyes, thick upper lashes, and straight, waist-length pale gray hair, she was, somehow, the most eye-catching of the group.

_Is she wearing… a monocle?_

She was. She was legitimately wearing a monocle over her right eye.

"Hey, hey hey Matsuda! Stop introducing us like 'WHAM' we're hentai readers! We read other stuff too, that goes like 'BAM' and 'KABOOM!'"

Izuku tilted his head. "Ka…boom?"

The speech-bubble boy nodded. "KABOOM!"

"Allow me to introduce you. Izuku, meet my friend Fukidashi Manga. You can probably tell, but he tends to love a lot of manga expressions and onomatopoeia." Matsuda pointed. "The idiot with the purple balls for hair trying to talk to the girl out of his league is my cousin, Mineta."

"There are no such things as leagues damn you!"

"And," Matsuda ignored him, "The ojou-sama over there is Intelli Saiko. She's wicked smart – but even if she didn't have an IQ of 150, she'd know never to give Mineta the time of day."

"Curse you blood of my blood!"

"Dude, I keep telling you, the thirstier you appear, the lower your odds." Matusda shook his head. "Anyway, everyone, this is Midoriya Izuku. Aldera Junior High's ace student. I'm slowly inducting him into our world."

"Yo, yo, nice to meet you Izuku! Let's have some 'POW' and "RA-TAT-TAT!'"

"He means let's have some fun," Matsuda translated.

"Ah…" Izuku managed to say.

Mineta stared at him, the boy's eyes narrowing sharply. "Matsuda… you didn't tell me your friend was a pretty-boy. I don't like pretty-boys. We don't like pretty boys. Pretty boys are bad news for the rest of us."

"Ah… I'm not, really –"

"You look like the sub in a yaoi manga."

"…Thanks? I think?"

Mineta harrumphed. "Fine. I'll test you. Boobs or Butts?"

Izuku blinked. "Um… w-what?"

"Which are more divine pretty-boy! Tits or Ass?"

"Ignore him," Matsuda said. "I've learned to."

"We have to know where he stands!"

"Um… boobs?"

Mineta nodded sagely. "A fellow man of culture."

Matsuda rubbed his palm down his face. Manga laughed at the cousins, but Saiko – Saiko seemed to be observing everything, quietly.

"Now for the final test! Big titties or small titties?"

"Mineta –" Matsuda warned.

"Um… does size… even matter?"

"You're right!" Mineta slammed his hands on the table, rising up, with his fist in the air. "Titties are titties! Size, shape, it doesn't matter! All boobs are the best boobs! All boobs deserve tender love and care! To be squeezed! To be groped! For those wonderful nipples to grace eager lips and – ack!"

Matsuda put his smaller cousin into a choke hold with his right elbow, the boy's eyes twitching. "Excuse me for a moment, Izuku… my cousin and I need to have a… _talk_."

"You can't suppress my gospel! The truth must be known! A prophet is always rejected by his own people! Izuku! Preach my gospel! Carry on my message! Do not let me demise be in vain!"

Izuku tried to suppress his nervous laughter at sight. _I never thought I'd meet someone more passionate about than Matsuda…_

"Midoriya-san, is it?"

It was the first time he'd heard Saiko speak. Her voice and Japanese, was, as he'd expected, clearly high-class. Distinguished, at the very least, from what the rest of them used.

"Ah… yes, that's me."

She steepled her fingers. "I, am a genius." She announced.

"That's… great?"

"You must certainly be wondering what someone of my station is doing in a place like this, must you not?"

"Well… no, not really." Midoriya rubbed the back of his head. "Different people have different interests… so… I can't really, judge you or anything. If you like reading manga or hentai… then, that's cool too. It's always nice to have hobbies… and people you can share them with."

Saiko hesitated on her next words. "I –" she pursed her lips. "Well, I was not expecting such… acceptance so easily."

"It's fine," Midoriya said. He turned to Manga. "So, how did you all meet?"

"A Comic Convention,"

"Comic Con, 'BOOM'!"

"Ah."

"We were all fans of a particular niche mangaka who only makes a certain type of… work. Manga-kun, Matsuda-kun and I were the only three individuals who knew who she was, and who requested signatures. We sat for a cup of tea and discussed our interests. Later on, Matsuda-kun introduced his… _cousin."_ She said that word with no small amount of irritation.

Izuku had a feeling that Saiko was not exactly fond of Mineta.

"Regardless, Midoriya-san, Matsuda-kun mentioned that you were something of an artist yourself. Though, for some reason, he said he made a promise to not show or mention what it is you draw."

Midoriya's cheeks flushed. His heart pounded softly in his chest. "W-well… I'm not… I mean I _am_, but it's… it's mostly because of my quirk."

Manga and Saiko leaned in, curious now.

"My quirk is called Precision. Basically, it lets me do anything in the world that requires even the tiniest bit of precision, and do it without error. It also makes _me_ more precise… but I still haven't figured out by how much… or if there's more to it."

"Coooool," Manga said. "Very cool."

Saiko's head nodded along with the judgment. "That _is_ a rather amazing quirk."

"Ah, that's true… what's yours?"

"My Quirk is called Comic. It let's me bring my words to life and sets heart alight like 'BA-DUM, BA-DUM!'"

Izuku stared at the floating onomatopoeia, the characters _doki-doki_ moving through the air from Manga, and landing softly on the table, making it vibrate twice, like a heart-beat.

"That's so cool!"

"Thanks, yo!"

Saiko cleared her throat. "My quirk isn't something as visual, unfortunately. It's called IQ. It lets me boost my intellect by drinking tea."

Izuku blinked at that bit of knowledge. _Boost intellect?_ "Does the type of tea you drink matter?"

Saiko smiled. "It does. Astute observation, Midoriya-san."

"Wait, but… you're already a genius. Matsuda said you have an IQ of 150."

Saiko preened. "I am. And I do."

"And your quirk, boosts _that?_"

"It does."

"That's… that's amazing!" Midoriya exclaimed. "I can't even imagine what that's like. Like… what goes through your mind and what you're always thinking about, or – or thoughts and ideas and concepts that you brainstorm must be –"

Saiko was staring at him oddly. Midoriya caught himself, feeling heat run to his cheeks. _I'm rambling. I almost started rambling again. _"Um…"

"Your Quirk is far more impressive, the way I see it. If you can be extremely precise, does that not mean you could do impossible things such as master how to perform brain surgery in one day? Or engineer gadgets and devices with a mechanical intricacy that cannot be rivaled by machines?"

"I… suppose…"

Saiko hummed. "So I take it you're applying to a distinguished Medical School? Or perhaps a top-name Engineering Institution?"

"Ah… actually, I want to become a hero."

"A… hero? With… your quirk?" Saiko's lips thinned a bit. "Well, you could certainly succeed at such… but… wouldn't that be a waste?"

"What – what do you mean?"

"You could save a lot more lives, and contribute a lot more to society as a doctor or surgeon. Or perhaps even an inventor. In comparison, there are only so many people you can save as a hero, and the risks and odds of injuries and death are exponentially higher for Pro Heroes than Surgeons."

"It's my dream to be a hero."

"And following your dreams is a nice advice that works great in manga and anime, but shouldn't be taken at face value in real life." She pointed to herself. "While I was younger, I also wanted to be a hero. Imagine that. With my IQ and a quirk that could multiply it, and the best way I thought I could contribute to society was to put my life on the line in a profession that addresses the symptoms of a disease and not the cause."

Izuku couldn't stop himself from flinching. Saiko noticed it immediately.

"Oh, so, you've also had that thought too, haven't you? About how Pro Heroes are basically band-aids for a cancerous wound. The Symbol of Peace is the strongest deterrent to crime… but the Symbol of Peace isn't immortal. A day will come, perhaps not now, not tomorrow, but a day will come, when the Symbol of Peace is gone, and then, what exactly will become of society?"

"Woah… this er… kinda got heavy." Manga spoke up, clearing his throat.

Saiko frowned. "Did it? I apologize. As a side-effect of both my quirk and my intellect, I have been told I am lacking severely in emotional intelligence and empathy. Spending more time with people is supposed to aid me in better understanding why people tend to default to emotions than logic… but I have not gained much success in that regard."

"Changing topics, Midoriya-san, may I see your quirk in action?"

Midoriya's allowed himself to breathe, even as he tried to ignore the words, the dull, idle stab in his chest. "My… quirk?"

"Yeah! Let's see your drawing chops!"

Manga reached into his backpack, bringing out a sketchpad and pencil. The objects found themselves in Midoriya's hands.

"Do you take requests, Midoriya-san?"

"S-sure… what… what would you like?"

"Endeavor and All Might in a passionate lover's embrace."

"…ah… a-ah… w-well…" _No!_ The All Might fanboy in him screamed._ No! No! No! No! No!_ "A-any o-other requests?"

"Was something wrong with my original?"

Midoriya coughed into his hand, casting a silent glance at Manga. _Help Me._

"Um… it's somewhat of a tall challenge for his first request Saiko. Maybe someone less… muscly?"

Saiko frowned a bit, then nodded. "I understand."

_Thank you! _Midoriya mouthed.

"Best Jeanist and Hawks in a lover's embrace should be far easier."

"H-how about I just… draw you?" Midoriya offered.

"Me? I'm not so vain as to ask of a portrait of myself."

"Y-you should," Midoriya pressed. "You – you really should. You're beautiful. Y-you'd make an excellent muse."

"W-well," Saiko stuttered. "I appreciate the flattery. If – if you insist, then I suppose... I would not mind."

Midoriya and Izuku let out collective sighs of relief. Izuku did not hesitate, nor did he give Saiko time to change her mind about the matter. With his right hand, he spun the pencil between his fingers, and started to 'draw.' He focused, rather than on creating a simple picture, creating something far more elegant, an ideal, a goal, tapping deep into what he felt about Intelli Saiko's aura. His right hand raced down the sketchpad, from left to right, printing out his vision.

Thirty seconds later, he breathed a sigh of relief at his finished work.

"Done."

"Woah." Manga said.

"Can I see it?"

The portrait, was different. It was of Intelli Saiko, but it was of her, as a different person. She was smiling, expressive, in the portrait, dressed in an elegant business suit, staring straight into the eyes of those who would glance at the portrait, with a gaze of mischievous intelligence. He didn't focus much on the background, but the foreground, the tiny features, the curve of her nose, the arch of her chin, the number of lashes on her brow –

Drawn to exact, precise detail. Another portrait that could be mistaken for a photograph.

Saiko stared at it for several seconds in silent contemplation.

"Midoriya-san…"

"Um… y-yes?"

"Would you be willing to be consider a Quirk Marriage with me?"

Midoriya Izuku choked on his saliva.

"We're back! What did we miss?"

The scene that Matsuda and Mineta returned to, was Manga laughing, Saiko's eyes glistening in bliss at an exquisitely drawn portrait, and Midoriya Izuku, coughing and sputtering while asking for water.

"I'll take it we missed a lot."


	4. Beliefs

**Author's Note: So here we are again! This author's note is gonna be looong to address some issues, questions and comments... and because it's much needed.**

**For some weird reason, I've gotten PMs and a few reviews from people telling me to remove Bakugo from my story because they hate him which I really don't get. I'll be honest, Bakugo is one of my favorite characters in BNHA. Whenever I read a story and see him being made into an idiot, I immediately close the fan fic and never read any material by that author ever again.**

**Biggest complaint against his character is that he's a bully. And I say, so fucking what? The world needs bullies. If I wasn't bullied throughout my childhood, I would have grown up to be a well-adjusted adult, and would have never needed an outlet for my thoughts and repressed problems in the form of writing. There would have been no Sir Lucifer Morningstar today, and I'd probably be in some white-collar job, grinding 9-5 and contributing to society. **

**Ugh. Just the thought of it sickens me.**

**Anyway, Bakubro is here to stay.**

**Props to fanfic-addict91**** for pointing out that I mixed up Mineta's name. Apparently, Mineta is his last name, and Minoru is first name. So Matsuda should be Mineta Matsuda, not Minoru Matsuda. I'd go back and fix it… but it sounds too fucking weird, and so, for the sake of this story, Mineta's first name is Mineta, and his last name is Minoru. (Not that it'll make a difference, but just pointing it out for those picky ones of you there.)**

**Also, for those asking, Intelli Saiko is not an OC. She's a canon character, albeit restricted only to the anime. You can check up the Boku no Hero wiki for more info on her, and to get a rough idea as to what she looks like.**

**Canonically, Saiko is a student at another hero academy and is beaten by Momo in the Provincial License Exam… which I call utter bullshit. One of the major issues with writing or creating "intelligent" characters is that the character can never be more intelligent than the person writing them. Not that I'm calling Horikoshi an idiot (I'm too poor a writer to call him that) but really, you create (or at least, allow the animators create) a character who's IQ nearly equals the likes of Stephen Hawking and Albert Einstein, and you give them a quirk that enables them to **_**double**_** it by drinking motherfucking tea… and their aspiration in life is to be what every fucking tom, dick and harry wants to be?**

**Fuck. That.**

**In this story, we're taking quirks, intelligence, organizations, villains and heroes to their logical extremes, and we're going to be fucking unapologetic about it. If making people more competent turns this story AU – **

**So fucking be it.**

**Oh, yeah, the other shoe finally drops this chapter. Guess three chapters of feel-good is my limit guys. I tried. **

* * *

**|A Precise Note|**

* * *

Time was something that Midoriya Izuku found himself consciously aware of. The seconds that unfolded into minutes, and minutes that unfolded into hours were always counted. Regardless of the evening progressing smoothly, with Manga providing his amazing collection of… _Manga_, and even displaying some mint-quality Comic Books from the Pre-Quirk Era that everyone found themselves engrossed in, Midoriya Izuku was always consciously aware of time.

"Did villains in the Pre-Quirk era really do such tacky things?" asked Matsuda. He tapped lightly, on to a comic book. "I mean, doomsday devices, plans for global domination, destroying the earth, leading armies of aliens to attack?"

"These books are fiction, Matsuda-kun. There weren't any villains or heroes in the Pre-Quirk era, because there were no Quirks. That's why we call it, the _Pre -Quirk_ era." Saiko explained.

Matsuda's lips formed into an 'o' as he stared back into his comic panel. "Huh. Makes sense. I mean, I guess no one would really know what a world with powers would look like, so they could only have guessed that some people would use their powers for crazy stuff like this."

He closed the comic, slowly. "At least one thing they got right is that the villains always lose and the heroes always win."

"I just like the costumes." Mineta giggled. "Look – look – skintight leotards! And here – her outfit has a boob-window! And look at this one! Red skin and barely wearing anything –"

"_Damn it_ Mineta, you know I can't –"

Midoriya grimaced for Matsuda's condition. It really didn't take much to set him off. Just a glimpse, at the artistically drawn but somewhat questionable fashion choices of the female superheroes in the comics, and Matsuda muttered a silent apology under his breath as he stood, and headed off to the bathroom. There was little doubt in Midoriya's mind that he would not be coming out for some time.

"T-that's not nice of you Mineta-san."

The short, grape-haired boy scoffed. "Like hell it is! I wish _I_ had a quirk that could let me get hard so easily. Lucky bastard'll be able to go a hundred rounds when he gets older… he'd be the Stud King of Stud Kings."

"It inconveniences his daily life – makes things difficult."

Mineta lifted up a comic book with a purple-faced, golden-gauntleted man, and quoted the words in the speech bubble. "A small price to pay for salvation."

Midoriya's lips thinned. Mineta couldn't be convinced. He couldn't see the bigger picture. All he saw were the positives of his cousin's quirk without realizing the negatives that came along with it. Or perhaps, it was the opposite. In Mineta's view, all of the negatives, were _still_ positives. That was the unfair nature of it all. Those with personalities ideal for certain quirks were rarely those who possessed those quirks. If anything, things were the opposite. A quirk ended up, directly or indirectly, affecting the personality of the individuals who possessed them. Their hobbies, to their character, their life goals to their aspirations –

Your Quirk, ultimately, decided who you were.

That was why he shuddered, for those whose quirks inflicted upon them villainous roles. For those who possessed no quirks to speak of, and found themselves resigned and limited to mundane lives, their goals hung before their faces like a dangling forbidden fruit presented before the inhabitants of God's garden.

Midoriya wasn't a religious person. Most people weren't, not in this day and age. Though, a rather small few still followed the Church of the Illuminated. Those who worshipped the first human with a confirmed case of a quirk. The famed "Luminescent Baby" born in Qing-Qing City, China, who shone with unearthly light. The history books made reference to some people calling the child at the time, as the Second Coming of a western messiah. Many believed wholeheartedly and the Church of the Illuminated grew in size. However, as quirks began to become more commonplace, the religious zeal died out. When everyone could walk on water or turn orange juice into liquor, glowing became less of an impressive feat, and the belief in the supernatural became subdued.

Instead, there were religious doctrines that ascribed to the belief of fate and destiny. The Cosmos' Chosen was such one religion. That it was fate, or destiny, to be born with a particular quirk. That you were given your quirk for a reason, and it was up to you to discover what that reason was.

That religion, too, died out, with the discovery of the Quirk Factor and how quirks used Mendelian principles of biological inheritance.

"Something on your mind Midoriya-kun?"

Saiko's voice was soft. It drew him from his thoughts. Izuku tried to stop the heat rushing to his face as he remembered her offer. Remembered that he hadn't answered her. She was pretty. However, that wasn't new, to Izuku. As far as he was concerned, all girls were pretty. Everyone was beautiful in their own way.

"J-just thinking about s-some s-stuff in a book I read."

"I'm a rather avid reader myself. Care to share?"

He bit his lip. "W-well, it's um… _An Essay of Quirk-Related Psychological Phenomena and the Argument of Determinism._" He cleared his throat. "It – it's not as… dull as it sounds."

Manga didn't seem to react to the name, being engrossed in his comics. Mineta let out a scoff. "Uuuuugh. Neeeeeeeerd."

"By Hirohito Miyagi, isn't it?"

"Y-you've r-read it?"

"I have. Miyagi makes an interesting argument for the quirks overruling free-will. Though, Midoriya-kun," Saiko's voice went low. "You do realize that Miyagi's works are rather controversial, especially because he was a well-known supporter of Destro, and a suspected Follower of One?"

Izuku's breath hitched.

"Wait, a what now?" Mineta scratched his head. "What's all this nerd talk? Why is pretty boy looking like you said you're into pegging?"

Saiko, for her part, sighed. "The Followers of One. Surely even _you_ should have heard of them?" Manga put down his comic book, and two pairs of blank eyes stared and Saiko muttered. "What do they even teach in Middle School these days…"

"You make it sound like you're not a Middle School student."

"For once Mineta-san, you make a correct deduction."

"You're in high school?" Mineta's eyes widened. "I've been talking to a High School Girl all this while?"

"I'm not in High School Mineta-san. I'm completing my Doctorate at a University which shall go unnamed because I do not trust you enough to know it."

The table was silent for several minutes. Izuku was never one to doubt people, nor was he one to believe people would tell a lie so bold-faced. As far as he knew, Saiko did not possess any reason to lie to them. _Completing her Doctorate? She can't be that much older than me and she's already doing her Doctorate? That's…_

"Amazing." Izuku whispered.

"Wait, wait, wait, you actually _believe_ her?"

"I do."

Mineta crossed his arms. "There's no way that –"

"Mineta-san." Izuku found his lips moving. His body moving. His right arm, landing, gently, _softly_ on the smaller boy's shoulders. His lips were forced into a smile, because he didn't know how to scowl, or frown. The muscles in his hands were pressing down, with full knowledge as to where to apply the most pressure.

"I don't like it when people doubt others. I trust Saiko-san to be honest with us. If you don't believe her words… please keep your lack of belief to yourself. _Please._"

"...R-right." Mineta whispered, his face contorting rapidly. "Y-your hand –"

Izuku blinked. "A-ah – s-sorry -!" he jerked his hand away from Mineta's shoulder as if he'd been burned. Slowly, he brought up his own hand to stare at it, looking at it as though it were a foreign object. _I – I hadn't meant to… I mean I had, but…_

Saiko cleared her throat. "Thank you, Midoriya-kun, as unneeded as it was. I care very little if others do not believe me. Regardless, to educate those who are not aware," she made the gesture of focusing solely on Manga. "The Followers of One are a religious group. Or at least, they started out as one, but have increasingly become known worldwide as an S-Rank Terrorist organization."

"Terrorists?" Manga asked. "Like… villains?"

"Not quite." said Saiko. "Although finding concrete proof is difficult these days, a lot of journals and books of the past make mention of a person born in the age when quirks were fairly new, a person said to be able to give and take away quirks at will. He took away quirks from those who considered their powers a burden, and blessed those who were in need of quirks to make their lives better. As human nature tends to glorify and objectify things that are unknown or mystical, this individual was treated in the same light as the Luminescent Baby. Worshipped. Glorified. In a world filled with chaos and uncertainty, the man with the power to alter the status quo was… _deified_."

Saiko adjusted her monocle. "For the most part, he was simply referred to as 'The One.' The one who all would bow before. The one who would change the world. The one who could either turn all of humanity into a supernatural society, or turn back the hands of evolution and leave us as we once were. Whether or not 'the One' is some messianic figure or not is irrelevant. The fact is that he possessed power and people flocked to him for it. His followers numbered in the millions, and thus, a religion formed behind him…"

"The Followers of One." Izuku whispered.

"I've never heard of them," Manga said.

"The government does it's best to censor out news that includes activities of the Followers." Saiko explained. "'The One' himself is somewhat of an urban legend now, despite there being sufficient evidence to prove that he was real. Some historians theorize that 'the One' was killed in the First Quirk War that brought about the current status quo of heroes and villains. His Followers scattered to the winds, searching desperately for a person worthy to succeed him. Nowadays, they mostly conduct shock-and-awe tactics of bombings and arson, but are also suspected of a long trail of unsolved kidnappings and missing people."

The Followers of One. Izuku would admit he only knew about them from his quirkless days when he spent hours scouring the internet for any way for him to accomplish the dream. Reading, articles upon articles, site upon site, about whether or not it was possible for someone born without a quirk to attain one. He checked forums, delved into hateful, angry sites populated by those who'd been like him, those who hated the system of quirks because they'd been cursed to be without them. Through his searches, he's seen numerous references, at the time, to the Followers. Some people still believed that the One was still alive. Alive, but weakened – waiting for someone worthy enough to appear before him, and for him to grant that person _his_ quirk – the power to giveth, and the power to taketh.

"Izuku-kun."

"Ah – y-yes?"

Saiko's fingers were steepled. "You've read Miyagi's work. What did you think of it?"

_What did he think?_ Izuku stopped himself from biting down on his lower lip. "It's…"

"Controversial, I know," Saiko waved her hand. "Especially the studies on Subject Nevermore."

"Er… mind filling us in?"

Izuku's gaze went from Saiko to Mineta and Manga, the duo looking lost. "Um… it's…" he fumbled his words. "T-there was a man, once… a… good man… who was arrested for… having um… committed mass murder of everyone at a p-poultry farm… B-but – well, in c-court, it was argued that it wasn't his fault… because of his quirk. He had a quirk… that allowed him to u-understand b-birds at a l-level better than he understood h-humans. H-his defense was… that the corvids, um… ravens and crows… approached him and told him that the b-birds were suffering… and they badgered him, and badgered him… until he went there himself… and… well –"

"The official report gotten from security camera footage said that he broke down in tears at the sight of the poultry, screaming '_why'_ over and over again, and in blind grief summoned an army of vultures and crows and that feasted on all the humans, and let all the chickens go." Saiko finished. "He was given the villain name 'Nevermore' for his ability. He did not fight back or protest at his arrest. Nevermore said, to him, birds were people. Each bird, was a person, with personality, charm, soul and character. He'd been an avid bird watcher and a docile office worker. Yet, in an instant, he became labeled an A-Class Villain… and was sentenced to life in prison."

"Whoa. That's… Damn." Manga muttered.

"He had the backing of many fanatical animal rights activists who called him a hero, and the case brought a question as to whether or not he could truly be held accountable for his actions. His quirk, his ability to speak to and understand birds as he would humans, was the crux of the issue. The argument was, if you were to walk into a factory where humans where caged, treated in inhumane conditions and butchered as we butcher livestock, would you have done any differently from what Nevermore did?" Saiko shrugged.

"The argument is still relevant today. As is the question of the true limits of animal, and even plant sapience. Of course, rather than bring these issues into light on the news, the government would rather shove down commercialized and propagandized images of heroes being a shining beacon for society down our throats."

Izuku couldn't help himself from flinching, just a little bit. He still admired heroes. He still wanted to be a hero. Yet, he asked himself, whether as a hero, he would have been able to do anything for Nevermore. Pro-Heroes, while they were allowed to have side jobs, were not allowed to participate in politics or legal matters. Their job was to arrest the villain, and that was that.

"I'm back! So…" Matsuda approached the group, before frowning. "…why is everyone looking like someone died?"

"That would be on me," said Saiko. "I find myself discussing a lot of sensitive, macabre issues without realizing it. I have been told that my real superpower is the ability to end parties and deprive people of joy."

"T-that's not true!"

Saiko allowed a small, ghost of a smile. "I appreciate the support, Midoriya-kun. Truly, I do. But I am not obtuse enough to fail to recognize the emotional drain I tend to leave on people. It's easier and more enjoyable to keep one's head in the sunlight, than to wade through darkness with a faltering torch."

Saiko stood, sliding across her seat and slinging her bag over her shoulder. "It's getting rather late, Matsuda-kun. Midoriya-kun. Manga-kun."

"H-hey what about me!"

Saiko gave one short glance to Mineta, before turning around and bowing politely to everyone but him. "I'll be taking my leave now. Thank you for entertaining me."

Something kicked Izuku in his chest as he watched Saiko turn around to leave. Time, as it was, for Izuku, felt slower. Each second stretched to encompass long agonizing minutes. The sway of her hair, as she turned around. The rumple on her clothes. The momentum of her arm swinging, carrying along with it the force to shift her bag.

Something kicked his chest again, and Midoriya Izuku found his body moving before his mind could catch up.

"I-Intelli-san!"

She turned around, idly shifting strands of her pale grey hair behind her right ear. Something kicked in Midoriya's chest again.

"A-ah… y-you don't need to leave – I –" Izuku bit his lip. "I WAS REALLY ENJOYING YOUR –" The final word stuck in his throat. _Presence_. He wanted to say. _Company_. He could have used. He wasn't sure which one would be right. Which one would be appropriate.

"Midoriya-kun…" Saiko placed her hand into her chin. "It _is _getting late. I'm not leaving because I felt uncomfortable with ruining the atmosphere. I'm leaving because I have a lecture to attend tomorrow."

"O-oh." Midoriya's cheeks burned. "U-um… can…" _You can do it! You can do it Izuku! If you don't believe in yourself, no one will!_ "C-can Ihaveyourphonenumber?" he said in a rush. "I mean – if you – so we can – k-keep in touch – b-but if you don't w-want to –"

"Oh? Reconsidering my offer for a Quirk Marriage?"

Izuku's cheeks burned. "M-maybe."

It took him 0.002 seconds for him to realized what he had said. His brows shot to the top of his head. Saiko, as well, had her brows raised.

"I – I mean –"

Saiko laughed, covering her mouth with her right hand. "It's fine, Midoriya-san. I was the one who started the teasing, it's only fair that I receive some as well." She reached into her bag, and a sleek, expensive-looking phone emerged. Midoriya held it diligently, his fingers steady even as his heart raced a thousand miles a minute, carefully inputting in his contact details.

"It's been a pleasure, Midoriya-kun. Also, thank you for the portrait."

It was only minutes after Intelli Saiko left the _Hero's Jump_ that Midoriya realized, she hadn't given him her number, but she'd collected his. there was an odd kick in his chest again. A weird, unfamiliar rumbling in his stomach. His feet felt lighter, somehow. The air, rich with her scent of lilac, sent a large, inexplicable smile to Midoriya Izuku's face.

That was when he remembered that there were three other guys present. One of which, was staring at him with a large, Cheshire-cat grin.

"Hohoho…" Matsuda said. "Little Izuku-kun has his first crush."

Izuku could feel his entire face burning. "N-no – no – I just… I – it's not l-like that at all!"

"_Riiiiight_," Matsuda said with a rolling tongue. "_Anyway_, ignoring Izuku's not-crush on Saiko – who's ready for a good ol' fashioned tabletop RPG?"

Midoriya Izuku would admit, he didn't pay much attention to the events that followed after Saiko left. Being left to his own devices because he always rolled a natural 20 and as such was a gamebreaker, he found his thoughts wandering to Saiko, and not only drawn to her intelligence, but to her arguments and criticism about the idealization and worship of heroes. To the topic of the Followers of One and their belief in a worthy successor. To Miyagi's studies, and his own increasing concerns.

He wanted to be the type of hero who supported everyone. Who was in the corner of those who entered the ring alone. But, to be a hero, controlled by the government, was to restrict his ability to do that. No one was in Nevermore's corner – not one hero spoke up in support of him. Of course, Nevermore killed people, and killing people was always wrong because you'd be hurting other people –

_Is it… impossible… to really be there for everyone?_

If he supported Nevermore, he would offend those who'd lost their families. If he supported those who lost their families – he would be against Nevermore. A man who's only crime was to view birds as people. So he had to pick a side. He had to choose, a side to pick. Make a stand between two grieving, hurt people.

_How… how am I supposed to make such a cruel choice?_

Quirks were the root of it. Quirks. The same power that turned around his life – and it was out there, making the lives of people like Matsuda and Nevermore miserable. What could he do for them? How could he help them, live normal, fulfilled and happy lives?

His gaze glanced, subtly, to Matsuda who had taken on the role of Dungeon Master. A person as smart and talented as Matsuda, believing the only thing he could become in life was an adult film star, all because he didn't want to inconvenience others with his quirk.

It wasn't right.

_I need to find a way to make it right._

The only question… was how?

* * *

| **A Precise Note|**

* * *

Izuku hadn't kept track of time at all.

"Izuku! Izuku-kun! Where – where have you been? I – I was worried!"

His mother stood outside the door, in her nightgown, waiting for him. It was a school night, although that meant increasingly less and less to him as his private studying was already far above and beyond the current curriculum. Even if he had only about four to five hours of sleep, he would still awaken feeling fully refreshed.

"I was meeting up with some friends and –"

"I already called the Katsukis, and even though Bakugo tried to lie and claim you were sleeping over –" Izuku blinked. _Kacchan did what?_ "Mitsuki overheard him and said you weren't there!"

"Kacchan isn't my only friend, ka-san."

His mother stopped mid-tirade. "Don't tell me… it's _that_ boy again?"

Izuku grit his teeth. "Stop referring to him like that! You don't even know him!"

"He asks you to draw _porn_ of your classmate! He has you come home by eleven pm on a school night! I don't need to know him to know that he's a bad influence Izuku-kun!"

Izuku's two hands balled into a fist. _How can she…?_ His own mother, his own flesh and blood, how could she be so… so… _unlike_ him? How could she judge someone whom she'd never met? Someone who was trying his hardest to be a good person? Someone who already had the world stacked upon them? And, without even knowing, or trying to understand anything about the situation –

"Stop it," he whispered. "Stop it, Ka-san."

"Izuku-kun, please understand that I'm trying my best to look out for you. Making friends with someone like that –"

"STOP IT!"

It was the first time he'd ever raised his voice that high. High enough that it echoed throughout the silent street. That windows and glass shook from the force. His mother, backed away, silently.

"Stop… judging people without knowing them," whispered Izuku. "People are… more than you... more than what you believe them to be. More than you could ever believe them to be."

"I…Izuku-kun…"

"I always wondered, ka-san… what would have happened if I never got my quirk," he said. "Would you… have kept looking at me with those eyes? Those sad eyes? Those guilty eyes? For the rest of my life… would you have kept looking at me, with pity… and regret… and sadness? Without… even a shred… of faith?"

He could hear her sobs. Her slow, pain racked sobs, even as she called his name. "I-Izuku – I – I'm sorry… I'm… I'm so sorry…"

"All I've ever wanted from you… ka-san, was to believe in me. To believe… in me… just once. Just once Ka-san. I just wanted you to believe."

His vision was blurry. There was a thick lump in his throat. One he didn't know how to solve. How to bite back. How to swallow down. His heart was beating quickly. Too quickly. He didn't know how to handle it. He didn't like how it hurt.

_It hurts. It hurts._

He wanted the ache in his chest to be gone. The pain, gone. The memory, of his mother, weeping over him as he asked her, _"can I be a hero?"_

Midoriya Izuku searched for most _precise_ way for it to stop hurting. For his soft heart to stop aching.

And, at that moment – his quirk answered.

The root of his emotional pain was his attachment and love for his mother. His hurt and disappointment at her lack of faith in him. To stop the hurting, _Precision_ was required to sever the root of the pain. To remove from him, the sting of his mother's failure to believe in him. Yet, even with surgical precision_, _it was impossible to remove the pain because it was attached to his love. The more he loved his mother, the worse his pain.

It left only one unfortunate solution.

Midoriya Izuku swung his bag on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, too, Ka-san."

"I-Izuku-kun? Izuku! W-where – where are you going Izuku?"

"I tried… Ka-san. I… tried my best."

"Izuku-kun! Izuku-kun please come back! Come back!"

He didn't look back. He couldn't look back.

"Izuku-kun please! I – I love you, Izuku-kun! Mommy loves you! Please – don't – don't go –"

The soft, silent footsteps of Midoriya Izuku's feet echoed through the night, as with nothing more than the clothes on his back and a backpack strewn across his arm, he vanished, into the night, with the cries and pleads of a repentant mother, unheard in the darkness.


	5. Conviction

**So, it's a day left to valentine's and my joy con started drifting. There goes my plan for playing Breath of the Wild. Ah well, I guess it's finally time to play the Blood and Wine DLC on the Witcher 3 and then spend the rest of my Valentine doing productive shit like typing my novel and learning C++.**

**Responses to Comments and Reviews of last chapter below, feel free to skip them if you don't care much for my thoughts and just wanna enjoy the story:**

**Due to some questions I'll clarify, Izuku's "Precision" does not mean "Logical Precision." Even if it _did_, mean that, Izuku has no way or form of knowing that. Remember that _ALL_ quirks are physical, hence, they work like muscles and grow with use. In canon, Izuku never attempted to use Full Cowling until his training because he didn't even realize it was possible to channel his quirk through his body at a lower percentage, rather than smashing at a 100% all the time and blowing his limbs off.**

**Hence, in an attempt to stay true to character, in this story, Izuku didn't even consider the possibility of his quirk changing his biology until someone pointed it out. While we, the audience, can do doubt assume that a superpower can do this or that, Izuku doesn't have that luxury. (This is in response to the reviewer who asked why Izuku didn't just use his quirk to try to 'convince' his mother, as if he has Contessa's Path to Victory. Yes, I've read Worm, and _perhaps_ in the future, Precision may be able to work similar to Path to Victory, but not yet, and certainly not now, when Izuku barely knows how his quirk works himself.)**

**As for Izuku leaving his mother - I'll say this again - Izuku isn't meant to be some uber-rational person. Satan knows I've tried my hardest to display him as the _opposite_ of rational with his dreams, beliefs and actions. I still don't know why I got people saying it wasn't a rational decision. That- that was the point. Even canon Izuku is anything _but_ a rational person. The same type of person who would destroy his own limbs, again and again and again, just so he could continue his quest of becoming a hero. The type of person, who has never, EVER, tried to have a conversation with the villains to understand their point of view. He isn't the All-Loving Hero archetype like Tanjiro from Demon Slayer who would cry and comfort literal _demons_ in their dying moment, and I don't know why many people in this fandom have that view of him.**

**Canon Izuku, has, and always will, put his goals and dreams above everything and everyone else - even himself. He had to literally be told that his arms would stop working if he kept using them as he did before he stopped using them and started using his feet to fight. Let that sink in, he's still a First Year - and he has arms that are so heavily scarred, that he could lose them forever if he keeps using them to fight as he always fights... _recklessly._**

**Izuku makes a shitload of reckless actions, but because he's the hero, and because everything always works out in the end, we enter a state of Protagonist-Centered Morality where we view his actions as heroic rather than reckless. Without significant plot armor, Izuku would long be dead in pursuit of his dream, and Inko would be left without a child, because his dream of being a hero is more valuable to Izuku than his life.**

**But whatever - "Plus Ultra!" and "Go Beyond!" and the typical shonen hero stuff.**

**I mean, the show's got an awesome soundtrack, so let's all ignore how one boy's one-track-mind desire to be a hero is actually horrific rather than inspiring.**

* * *

|**A Precise Note|**

* * *

They were diseased. All of them were diseased. The children, walking down the roads with their eyes held up in wonder at the facetious lies told by society. The parents, who enabled the lies, further spreading the disease from their lips with no care for the contagion, with no respect for the uninfected.

"_And in the latest popularity poll, All Might remains the Number One –"_

Diseased. It itched. He turned away from the billboards, from the moving crowd. They made a berth for him, parting as he walked. It was ironic. The diseased avoiding the uninfected. He cared little. Time was in his favor. He would bide his time, because the One Who Ruled was still present. The King of the Underworld. Perhaps, the most diseased one of all of them. A man who possessed within his power, the vaccine to cure the illness that was hero society, yet, choose to keep it from the world out of either amusement or apathy.

It mattered little. The time of the King would soon come to an end. He was not one for regicide, but he would not shy away from it if absolutely necessary. Those who had made a paradise of the darkness were far stronger than those who attempted to govern the light. The light knew this. They were terrified, of this. Hence, why they struggled, like frantic bees buzzing in the confusion of their destroyed hive, to ensure that those in the darkness never united as one.

The doors to the supermarket opened, and the clerk, as always, lowered her head in reverence. There was understanding, and there was respect. The knowledge of the old ways of the world before the disease called _quirks_ came to upturn the proper order.

His phone buzzed. He didn't need to reach for it. Not when it was already within him. Part of him.

"Speak."

"_It's your favorite broker speaking._" Came the voice on the other end._ "How is Japan's most feared Yakuza boss doin?"_

"I don't have time for your jokes Giran."

"_Always ever so serious,"_ the broker sighed. "_And to think people said you'd mellowed out after adopting a daughter. How's little Eri-chan doing? I heard she's head over heels for you."_

He didn't react. There was no reason for such a reaction. "And where did you hear that?"

"_Tut. Tut. Come on Chisaki. You know how this song and dance goess."_

"Don't test me."

"_Ooh! You gonna send Nemoto after me to make me spill my guts?"_ the broker laughed. "_You know, your man's been making a hell of a reputation for himself. Know what they're calling him?"_

"I don't care."

"_Azrael," _said the broker. _"Means the Angel of Death. Funny, considering Nemoto doesn't even kill his victims, he just makes them spill their secrets. Though I suppose for those tight-lipped and cautious government and company types – spilling their guts out_ _is pretty much guaranteeing their death._"

"What do you want Giran?"

"_Well, as it stands… some bastards are getting close on my tail. Time to switch things up. Get a different look."_

That was news. "The Pro-Heroes are closing in on you?"

Giran's loud laugh almost made him irritated. "_Hah! As if. The heroes are as oblivious as ever. Too self-righteous to ever do the deeds needed to get in touch with me. No, I'm talking about another group. A more… troublesome group. You should have heard of them. Their leader is Destro's son – he calls himself Re-Destro."_

"Another group of the diseased. I know them. The Meta Liberation Army."

"_As expected of the youngest Yakuza Boss in Japan. Always up to trend with potential contenders."_

"What do they want with you?"

"_What don't they want with me? I'm Giran. Once upon a time I'd brag about how I'm the underworld's greatest broker – but it's actually pretty annoying now that everyone knows it. I'm the dame at the ball in the short dress and everyone's eager to take my hand and dance."_

He muttered softly underneath his breath. "Have you decided on the look?"

"_A girl. Eighteen or so. She's a cute one too. Orphaned from hero parents, no real friends or family – zero records in the system, and a quirk that let's her enter people's dreams. She's perfect. Aren't you perfect, darling?"_

He heard the sound of frantic whimpers and groans.

"_Yeah. She's perfect. Plus, no one ever suspects cute girls. It's why that serial-killer chick manages to escape the law every time. I'd have gone for her, cause her quirk let's her transform into other people, but it needs blood to do that, and I'd rather not catch something from drinking people's blood. God only knows what kind of shit is inside Stain's system."_

There was a pause. "_Speaking of viruses –_"

"No, Giran."

"_Come on Chisaki! You were making a fortune! We were making a fortune!_"

"Money isn't a concern of mine any longer."

"_But you could always make more! The Americans loved your stuff! It's not like it costs you anything. Just grab a common pneumococcus bacterium, get a petri-dish of some obscure African virus, slap 'em together with your quirk and upgrade the lethality and viola! Instant bio-weapon! A hundred million dollars for a couple o' minutes of work."_

"Giran… the more you speak, the less sure I am that I won't kill you when we meet."

"_Fine – fine –_ _no more creating extinction-level viruses. I get it. Now you're all about that Trigger drug and, of course, your magnum opus –"_

Slowly, he rubbed his thumb and index finger down his nose. "Giran… I understand. You know my secrets. You have the means to leak them to the world. I'm not a fool. I don't have time for these games. Once you're ready for my services, call me."

"_Tut-tut. That's so not fair Chisaki. You're making me out to be the bad guy here, dangling your juicy secrets in front of you."_ The Broker hummed. "_To make things a bit fair, I'll give you some interesting information I picked up. Free of charge."_

"What's the catch?"

"_I like to call it a down-payment of good faith._" Giran said. "_Now, do you want to hear it or not?"_

"…go on."

"_I have reason to believe that the Symbol of Peace is on his last legs. A year, maybe, if he pushes it, two – and the kingdom of light will lose their King."_

Chisaki stopped. His gaze landed on the stocked supermarket shelves, cold air wafting from the refrigerators stocking yoghurt and milk.

"Where did you get this info?"

"_I am a man of great generosity, Chisaki – but if I went around telling people how I got my info, I'd be a rather shitty information broker. Anyway, if you don't believe me – you can always send your 'Angel of Death' to confirm. His Confession quirk is the ultimate lie detector. All you need to do is send him to corner Chiyo Shuzenji and ask the truth from her."_

"Who?"

"_An old woman. She's more commonly known as Recovery Girl."_

"The Light's healer."

"_Exactly. A national treasure. Of course, she's the only real healer the light have, so she's extremely well protected. About a dozen assassins try their luck to end her every month – but because the old bat lives at UA and the Demon Nezumi has marked that place as his kingdom… all who have tried have been caught and incarcerated. No one has broken into UA since its founding… but you're Kai Chisaki. If anyone could succeed, it just might be you."_

"I have no interest in school children."

"_Says the man who spends several hours every day in a dark room with a little girl strapped down."_

"Giran…" Chisaki warned.

"_Oh come on, where's your sense of humor? Ah, whatever. I've told you my piece."_

"You're hiding something," said Chisaki. "You wouldn't tell me to send Nemoto after Recovery Girl if you didn't believe it was possible. You wouldn't suggest attacking UA either. Giran… what is your real intention?"

"… _My sources tell me All Might will be taking a teaching job at UA in the coming year."_

"And?"

"_Taking a teaching job… just as his time in the sun is about to expire? Come on. Even Chinese martial art movies aren't that obvious."_

"…he's in search of a successor?"

"_We all know Endeavor can't be the Symbol of Peace. He's covered his tracks well, but all it'd take would be to point out why his wife is confined to a psychiatric ward to make his wax wings melt. Hawks is strong, but he doesn't have the same presence. Best Jeanist and Ryukyu aren't in the same punching class. So, that leaves finding someone young and moldable. A new player."_

"I see. You've given a lot of thought to this. I'll ask again… what is your goal, Giran?"

"…_tell me, Chisaki… do you watch Pro-Wrestling?_"

"No."

"_I do. I love it. The athletes are well-trained, and of course, I know they don't actually try to hurt each other, but the performances are still spectacular. Many hate it because they say it's fake. They miss the point. It never advertised itself as something real. The wrestlers are playing a role, they're characters, and the way they interact with the other wrestlers, the other characters – it's a beautiful performance. The ways a character can turn from face to heel or heel to face, or reach a famed 'Gold' status wherein they are never booed and always loved regardless of whatever they say or do… I love all of it."_

"I assume there's a point, somewhere in there."

"_The entire system of villains and heroes is just like Pro-Wrestling. But… it's real. The stakes are real. The consequences… real. Yet for the past several years… things have been at a stalemate. A boring, equilibrium. Rarely do we hear of villains turning into heroes, and far, far more rarely do we hear of heroes turning into villains. Then there is the most famed impossibility, a person who, is neither hero nor villain – yet, the masses arise as one, and they cheer. They chant, and celebrate whether this person kills dozens or saves people in a burning building – they cheer. A person whose existence is so controversial, so inexplicably unique that they are above the classifications of hero and villain… they are, unto their own right… a legend."_

"Such a person can't exist."

"_I know. That is why I will do everything in my power to make the next best thing."_

"And that would be…?"

"_You'll know it when you see it Chisaki. You'll understand, only when you see it.."_

The famed Broker of the Underworld was a person who rarely shared his true goals with others. All knew that he was not after wealth, for the man was wealthy beyond reason. He was not after power, for the man had many chances to attain it, but turned it down. Yet, Chisaki could never have imagined, that the reason Giran chose to be Giran, was because of something like this.

_He's diseased… just like the rest of them._

"_Well, I've taken up far too much of your time already. You'll find me at Warehouse 9 in the Kamino Red Zone. It's been a pleasure as always."_

The line went dead. Chisaki Kai scratched the bumps on the back of his hand.

_Diseased. Just like everyone else._

* * *

**| A Precise Note |**

* * *

"You're fucked in the head, Izuku."

"It's just – just for a little while."

Katsuki Bakugo snarled. Explosions rocketed off his palms as the cool night breeze rushed in from the window. The idiot hanging from his window, looking like his puppy had been kicked a thousand times over, was easily the only person in the world who could have gotten him so riled up.

"No."

"Kacchan –"

"Go home Izuku." He said. "Don't be a fucking idiot. You think UA is gonna let a fucking runaway apply to their school? I don't give a shit about what problems you and your mom have – work it out."

"I can't." Izuku grit his teeth. "You – you don't understand Kacchan. I can't. I can't stand to look at her. All I see when I look at her… is those moments. Those moments when she looked at me… looked at me as if I had no hope. As if… as if –"

"It's fucking two am in the middle of the night Izuku." Katsuki Bakugo growled. "Deal. With. Your. Shit."

"I – I'm not going back there."

"So, what, you're just gonna leave your mom to hang and dry, wondering where the fuck you are?" Bakugo didn't have the patience for this. "What happened to all that bullshit about always being in someone's corner? Not letting anyone feel fucking alone? What, it only applies to strangers and not your own goddamned family?"

"It's… it's different."

"How the _fuck_ is it different?"

"I could accept it from you, or from some stranger or from anyone else – from anyone else… but her… but… her…" Izuku's teeth grinded against each other. "And – and when I got my quirk, she tried to act as if all the years behind us hadn't happened. She was… _so relieved_… as if – as if she'd done something right. As if it made up for it."

"What the fuck are you on about?"

"It's like… you had no faith that your crippled child would ever accomplish his dreams because he was crippled. But – but one day a miracle happens and he can walk again! He can walk again! And all of a sudden – you expect him to just… throw his arms around you? Just like that? He's supposed to just… _forget?_"

Bakugo didn't have the words to say. He was tired. Sleepy. Irritable. At the same time, he knew, that Izuku was, annoyingly stubborn. Unlike him, Izuku's stubbornness wasn't apparent. It was a hidden facet of his personality. Once he made his mind on something, committed to something, believed something – it was difficult to force him to believe otherwise. Katsuki knew it well. Other people, after receiving the same words of discouragement and mockery would have quit, chosen a different dream. They wouldn't stubbornly cling to one goal or one ideal, to one desire, to shun every and all other possibilities in pursuit of one thing.

Who knows what would have happened if the boy had remained quirkless. Katsuki didn't want to think of the grim possibilities. Of what someone, with that complete desperation and desire for an impossible dream, would have done upon realizing that dream was out of their grasp.

"I just… I just need a place to stay for tonight. J-just… one night, and then – then I'll find my own place. I-I'll get myself in order."

"You don't have any fucking money."

"I'll raise money. My quirk… it's good for that. I'll… I'll think of something."

Katsuki Bakugo hated troublesome situations. He hated family drama. He was glad that his family was the way it was. His mother was blunt and to the point. His father was a softy, but the man couldn't tell a lie or hide a secret to save his life. Secrets and lies and having pent up thoughts that you never let out but just let it build up was the reason drama like this happened.

"One fucking night."

"That's all I need Kacchan."

"One night – and you and your mom deal with your shit."

"I can't –"

"If you can't even do that, then don't ever fucking talk to me about wanting to be a hero that saves 'everyone.' That'll just be you being a bullshitting hypocrite."

He didn't give the boy the chance to respond. Bakugo opened the window fully, turning around. "I'll get the spare futon. Make too much noise and you're dead."

"Thanks, Kacchan."

"Whatever."

"_Meow._"

Both boys turned as one, to the soft ruffling noises made from Izuku's backpack. The green-haired boy's eyes widened as he realized it. "Ah! Sir Kuro!"

Katsuki's brow twitched. "The cat?"

The black cat emerged from the bag, stretching its paws and feline body out. Katsuki could feel his irritation grow with each passing second. "Why the fuck is Shinigami in your bag?"

"I picked him up from the park… I forgot he was in there."

"So, what, I'm getting two fucking freeloaders for the price of one? I didn't ask for this shitty deal."

"Come on, Kacchan – Sir Kuro will be on his best behavior – he – he won't cause any trouble. Will you, Sir Kuro?"

"_Meow."_

Katsuki Bakugo found his brow twitching in further irritation. The damned blasted cat was somehow able to read the room stretching it's paws out in an attempt to act cute and innocent. Bakugo was no fool. He wasn't buying it for a second.

"If I wake up to find you in my bed – I'll murder you."

Izuku frowned. "I wouldn't –"

"I wasn't talking to _you_, Izuku."

"_Meow._"

"That's right. I'll fucking murder you."

* * *

**| A Precise Note|**

* * *

Midoriya Izuku couldn't sleep.

Each thought that came into his mind was preceded and followed by another one, each more turbulent than the last. He knew, Kacchan was right, to a rather large degree. UA was a school that did background checks on its students. If he wanted to pursue his goal of becoming a hero, of entering UA, he couldn't do it without some sort of parental seal of approval.

_But… is entering UA the right choice? _

_Of course it is! This – this is my dream!_

He could become a hero by entering UA, that was true. That was his goal, his dream, for the longest time. _So why… does it now feel so…?_

Perhaps, because, he now had other doors open. Other avenues he hadn't considered. Saiko herself told him, that he could become a Surgeon or an Inventor with his quirk. Using it to help people in smaller, but more significant ways. He could, perhaps, solve problems by inventing some sort of device that helped people who had troublesome quirks live easier with their troublesome quirks.

_I can't be the only person to have thought about something like this… can I?_

It felt farfetched. Impossible, to consider it. The possibility that no one else in the entire world had thought about trying to help people with troublesome quirks. Schools did guidance counselling on how students were supposed to use their quirks respectfully, and the government placed bans on using quirks in public/official areas, with hefty fines and jail time given to offenders.

The only institutions in the world that taught you how to properly control your quirk and provided you with gear and equipment to maximize the benefit of their quirks and reduce the drawbacks… were Hero Academies. Yet, Pro-Heroes were basically public-servants, and as public-servants, they were entrenched within the system, and could not save it. They could not change it, when they were a part of it.

His phone pinged, the bright light flashing in the darkness of Kacchan's room. Midoriya's eyes adjusted immediately, as he checked the phone to see a new message from an unknown number.

_?: Hello, Midoriya-kun._

_Midoriya: Umm… hello._

_Midoriya: Sorry, who is this?_

_?: Tell me, Midoriya-kun… did you think about our discussion today?_

Their… discussion? Izuku's nose crumpled. The only person he discussed with…

_Midoriya: Intelli-san?_

_?: Saiko-san is fine, Midoriya-kun._

Heat rushed to Midoryia's face. He remembered, now, that she'd collected his phone number.

_Saiko: Midoriya-kun, I'll be upfront with you. I believe you may be of great use to me._

_Midoriya: Use…?_

Midoriya frowned.

_Midoriya: Are you talking about that Quirk Marriage offer?_

_Saiko: That is one way, but no, I'm referring to something else._

_Saiko: I'm going to send you a book, Midoriya-kun. If you wouldn't mind, I want you to read it, and tell me what you think of it when you're done._

_Saiko: [File: Meta_Liberation_War]_

The book Saiko sent him was one that sounded familiar. The _Meta Liberation War_, _an autobiography_, by Chikara Yotsubashi. Izuku knew he'd heard the name before. He was not entirely certain as to where.

_Midoriya: Alright. I'll read it._

_Saiko: Excellent, Midoriya-kun._

_Saiko: Also, Midoriya-kun, I think it's best, for now, if you were to try and reconcile with your mother._

Izuku's heart froze.

_Saiko: Goodnight, Midoriya-kun._

_Midoriya: How did you know?_

He waited. Seconds. Minutes. The agonizing passage of time eventually settling it in his mind that Saiko wasn't going to give him a response. Midoriya's lips pressed tightly against each other as he stared at the phone in his hand. _How did she know?_ That was uncanny. Disturbing, even.

Izuku wasn't willing to let it die. He wasn't willing for the matter to drop there. Swiftly entering into his browser, he immediately opened the search engine and typed in the name: _Intelli Saiko._

"…four million results?"

**Intelli Saiko – Quirkipedia, the Free Encyclopedia.**

**Intelli Corporation officially Merges with the Detnerat Company – BusinessInsider.**

**Intelligence Based Quirk Company Attempts to Re-kindle fervor for Space Exploration – ScienceToday.**

**Intelli Heiress crowned National Chess Champion at 6, sparks debate about banning Intelligence Quirk Users from official tournaments – FIDE-Official.**

Izuku stared at the results, his eyes growing larger with each one. The girl had said she was a genius, but she had not mentioned anything about being famous. Izuku clicked on the first option that came up, directing himself to her biography on Quirkipedia.

_S-should I…?_ He hesitated. Was it… wrong, to learn about Saiko from the internet like this? Wouldn't it be better, if he got to know her, for who she was, rather than what people said she was?

_But… how did she know I had a fight with ka-san?_

She was smart, and her Quirk doubled her intellect, but that didn't mean she was somehow all-knowing… did it? No – no, there had to be a simpler, more plausible explanation, than people's quirks somehow making them clairvoyant.

…_But, there are people with clairvoyant quirks. All Might's former sidekick, Sir Nighteye… he has a quirk that lets him see into the future. Is it possible that Saiko's IQ Quirk can allow her something similar by boosting her IQ continuously? She never mentioned if it was possible to stack her Quirk and thus multiply her IQ by drinking different cups of tea, or several cups in a single sitting, and I can't know for sure what it's like to be someone with a four-digit IQ…_

Izuku couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be like to be that smart. To have the correct answers to all the problems. To be able to form and conceive solutions to any challenge that came your way as easy as one-two-three.

He couldn't even figure out how Saiko managed to know what she did. He couldn't figure out a way to help Matsuda with his quirk. Couldn't figure out a solution for all the people, suffering because of the absence, or presence of an ability they did not choose. He couldn't even figure out, if his goal, the only thing he'd ever wanted to be since he was a child, was the right way to go about accomplishing his desires.

What was it worth to be a hero, when he could not save those who needed the most saving?

When ultimately, he would have to choose, to draw a line, pick a side, and rather than save the villains, he would grow satisfied with merely containing their damage, patting himself on the back as a hero, content with letting one person suffer as long as no one else suffered along with them?

"_So, what, you're just gonna leave your mom to hang and dry, wondering where the fuck you are?"_

Izuku felt a bitter taste in his mouth. Kacchan's words came reeling.

"_If you can't even do that, then don't ever fucking talk to me about wanting to be a hero that saves 'everyone.' That'll just be you being a bullshitting hypocrite."_

He ground his teeth against each other. Here he was, talking and thinking about saving the villains, about saving everyone… and… what had he done…? He – he couldn't even find it in himself to forgive his own mother for her mistakes. Was he supposed to expect the families and loved ones of those hurt by villains, to forgive a total stranger? Was he supposed, to find room in his heart to accept people for their flaws and support them in their aspirations, when he couldn't even do the same for his own flesh and blood?

_Why?_

Izuku grit his teeth.

_Why am I… still so… _

He had a quirk now. He had power, now. He wasn't the same. He shouldn't still feel like his goals were so far out of reach. Still feel so small. So weak. Feel as if he was still grasping at straws. As if he was still chasing something impossible to attain.

_No. It's – it's not my quirk. _

It wasn't his quirk that was the fault. His quirk was amazing. Had it landed in the hands of a doctor or a scientist – his quirk would be revolutionary. Yet, he couldn't see himself becoming a doctor or a scientist. There – that was the problem. _He _was the problem.

In the end, he wanted to be a hero – but he wanted to do it _his way. _His own selfish way – and that – that wasn't what a real hero did. The problem wasn't his quirk or his dream, it was _him_. He didn't have the right mindset, the right skillset, the right determination and confidence, the right ruthlessness and fervor to chase after his dream and make it reality. Most people were willing to do anything it took to turn their dreams into reality, but for him, while he'd been quirkless, all he'd done was mope, sit around, browse the net in desperation and convince himself that one way or another he'd still become a hero.

_No more._

No, Midoriya Izuku decided. _No more._

_I need to be willing to do whatever it takes._

Midoriya Izuku closed his eyes. He wanted to be confident. He wanted to be smart. He wanted to stop having doubts and insecurities. He wanted… wanted to have a heart that could be big enough for everyone.

With a deep breath, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration. The Quirk called _Precision_ was at the whim of its owner, and thus, to reshape an individual's personality, eliminate their doubt, allow for greater neuroplasticity – a lot of change was needed to be made to the sole organ in the world that controlled directly who and what a person was.

The knowledge of anatomy he'd been studying for the past several months were used. Midoriya Izuku channeled his quirk, feeling for it, and, like instructing a computer to perform a given task, he ordered it to perform changes unto his own form.

Hypothalamus, controlling maintenance functions and the endocrine system. _Precise._

Medulla, controlling heartbeat and breathing. _Precise._

Cerebellum, controlling voluntary movement and balance. _Precise._

Amygdala, affecting emotions. _Precise._

Hippocampus, affecting memory. _Precise._

_Whatever it takes._


	6. Ambition

**Whoo! And here we have an extra-long chapter to make up for the missing days. Been 10 full days since Valentine's... and I had to fall sick. On the downside, spent my Valentine's day in the hospital instead of playing the Witcher. On the upside, met a nice nurse there also complaining of her lack of Valentine's day happiness. Misery loves company you know. Could this be the start of a Devil's romance?**

**Nah I'm kidding. I'm not that lucky.**

**Back to the story. We'll be having a bit of a timeskip in a chapter or two, and officially start the canon timeline. Of course, being the edgelord that I am, you can be sure as hell guaranteed that canon will be pretty much fucking unrecognizable. I mean, that's the whole point of fan fiction yeah? To use what you like in canon and then create something unique on top. Yet, for some weird reason, more than half the Boku no Hero fics are basically just endless rehashes of canon content but featuring: Izuku-with-quirk! Or My-OC-Goes-To-UA!**

**I swear to Samael that as long as you've read one BnHa fic, it feels like you've read them all. Same Deku wanting to be a hero. Same league of villains attack at USJ. Same boring stakes and canon world. Same tournament arc with Izuku helping Todoroki family issues. Then there's the typical bullshit pairings and harem nonsense.**

**Why hasn't anyone made a fic where the world is a dystopia run by All For One? Why has no one written a story where the League of Villains just kidnap or kill the parents and family of UA students to demoralize them, seeing as how every-fucking tom dick and harry knows their names because they have a bloody festival where they advertise their capabilities to the world?**

**Sigh. The sad thing about writing fan fiction is that you begin to see the plot holes and idiot plots that exist in the original medium that you wouldn't ever have thought about unless you were thinking deeply about it.**

**For instance, All For One is supposedly ancient right? Old enough to survive seven generations or so of One For All users. Anyone who knows anything about power and wealth and influence knows that it accumulates with time. Just look at the Meths from Altered Carbon, or the Celestial Dragons from One Piece, or Salem from RWBY or even the stupid fucking vampires from Twilight. **

**I don't buy how weak he is, that a severely weakened All Might could beat him. I don't buy, why he even NEEDS to have a successor. I don't buy how little influence he truly has on the world, that so few people know of his existence. The dude should be like the fucking boogeyman. The Baba Yaga of the BnHA universe. If All Might is the world's Superman/Captain America, then he should be the world's Thanos or Darkseid or fucking John Wick. **

**Instead, he's doing that bullshit chinese martial art sensei crap of letting the student surpass the master.**

**Sigh... whatever. Rant over. Back to the story.**

* * *

**A Precise Note**

* * *

"The Quirk Existence Threat Analysis," Professor Miyazaki wrote onto the chalkboard. "Commonly referred to as the QETA Score. The system that enables us to rank Quirks based on their potential ability to disrupt the global economy, change or alter the nature of human existence, or bring about the extinction of all life on the planet."

The Professor adjusted his glasses, strands of his ages silver hair falling down his face. "Certain individuals, such as the Pro-Hero Thirteen and the Villain Quasar, possess extremely volatile quirks that, if used improperly, could lead to widespread devastation of lives, property, infrastructure. Others, such as the villain brother duo Goldfinger and Silvertooth, were capable of singlehandedly causing the crash of the gold market."

The Professor reached for his chalk, proceeding to write out on the board: **QETA Rankings.**

**D – Rank: (QETA 1) **_Minor, negligible impacts on society, economy, and/or human existence._

**C – Rank: (QETA 2) **_Slightly noticeable impacts on society, economy, and/or human existence._

**B – Rank: (QETA 3) **_Significant impacts on society, economy, and/or human existence._

**A – Rank: (QETA 4) **_Severe impacts on society, economy, and/or human existence._

**S – Rank: (QETA 5) **_Irreversible impacts on society, economy, and/or human existence._

Professor Miyazaki dropped the chalk, adjusting his glasses. "Any individual discovered to possess a quirk of QETA 3 or higher will be closely observed by the government, and, in some severe cases, as it was with Quasar's son, Supernova, deemed too dangerous to allow in human society."

The Professor placed his hand on his desk. "Kubo et al argued in _The Quirk Factor: Man's Extinction by Man's Evolution_ about the ethicality of imprisoning individuals merely on the _possibility_ of them utilizing their quirk to upheave society. Should we, as a society, continue to deprive individuals of their lives and freedom, if it means guaranteeing the safety of our existence? To condemn innocent men, women and children to incarceration, because of what they _might_ do?"

The sound of a ringing bell cut across the classroom.

"We will be discussing the argument in our next lecture. Class dismissed."

Arranging her books into her bag, she let out a soft, restrained yawn. She marched down the lecture theater, able to catch the Professor just as he finished packing up his things.

"Intelli-san." Came the flat voice. "I take it you have some questions?"

"My grade on the last assignment. I believe there must have been some error."

She reached for the paper, holding it up to the Professor for scrutiny. "There's no error here."

"This is an A Minus."

"Your highest grade in my class so far. You should be proud."

"I would rather you refrain from telling me what I should or should not feel Professor, and instead explain why you deemed my paper unworthy of a perfect grade."

Professor Miyazaki shook his head. "Intelli-san, you're my youngest student –"

"The relevance of which being?"

"You still have room to grow –"

"Depriving me of my well-earned score without reason is meant for me to _grow?"_

"Will you let me _finish?_"

There was an odd, impatient tension in the room. The older man muttered a few choice words underneath his breath. He cleared the phlegm in his throat, turning his head to the board.

"Intelli-san, logic and rational thinking are excellent for several fields, but this _The Ethics and Philosophy of Quirks_. A lot of your answers in my class are frankly, _disturbingly_ unethical_. _They are unapologetically utilitarian in some instances, and border on fanatically Machiavellian in others."

"I tackle the problems presented with suitable solutions, Professor."

"And I'm telling you that your solutions lack a shred of human empathy." Professor Miyazaki pointed to the board. "In the case of Subject Supernova, the prepubescent son of the villain Quasar whose quirk allowed him to create and detonate miniature stars. What would you argue as being the right thing do to rather than incarceration?"

"Sedate and use him as a source of free energy. Acquire his sperm and impregnate women with complementary quirks, and use these individuals as vehicles to advance human civilization."

"Did you miss where I stated that the boy is barely old enough to have started puberty?"

"What is the life of one boy compared to the eventual prosperity of billions?"

"And you wonder why you have an A Minus in my class."

Her lips pressed tightly against each other as she watched the Professor depart from the lecture theater. Stubbornly, she marched onwards after him.

"Professor, I'm not quite sure I understand. Your reason for not giving me a perfect grade is because my arguments in your class are lacking in emotional predilections and unnecessary sentiment?"

"Sentiment? Is that what you believe it is, to not exploit a child for the gain of others?"

"Yes." Saiko said. "What else could it be?"

Professor Miyazaki sighed. He aged, at least three times over in a second. His right hand reached into his pocket, a cigarette appearing within his fingers. A lighter, followed shortly. The known cancer-giving stick landed in his lips, a long, slow drag of smoke being his only response.

"I have another class, Intelli-san."

The man had no more words for her as he left. His failure to deem her with a response only further entrenched it in her mind that the Professor was just another person paying lip-service to the supposed good inherent in human beings. Altruism, while being a necessary evolutionary feature of society, did not entail the deprivation of advantages to oneself because of perceived notions of what one believed were just or _moral_.

Her phone beeped, twice. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out the device, finding from within it a message.

_Midoriya: I figured it out. Saiko-san._

Her brow quirked.

_Saiko: Figured what out?_

_Midoriya: The backdoor application you installed on my phone._

_Midoriya: When I gave you my phone to put in your number. You installed a backdoor app. That's how you listened in on my conversation. That's how you knew I had an argument with my mom. _

Pressing her lips together, she thought about her response.

_Saiko: You're right._

_Saiko: I'm impressed. _

_Midoriya: I'm glad._

She blinked.

_Saiko: You're not upset?_

_Midoriya: Should I be?_

_Saiko: Most would consider my actions as a gross invasion of privacy._

_Midoriya: It was._

_Saiko: And you're not upset over the fact?_

_Midoriya: No one has ever planted spyware on my phone to watch me before. So I'm flattered, I guess?_

_Flattered_, the boy said.

_Midoriya: But if you feel I should be upset, I guess I could do something and we could call it even._

She pressed her lips firmly together. _Am I actually chatting with Midoriya?_

_Saiko: What do you have in mind?_

_Midoriya: I'll think of something._

_Midoriya: Oh, I just remembered, I finished the book you sent me._

_Midoriya: Do you have other recommendations?_

_Saiko: [Sending File: The Quirk Factor: Man's Extinction by Man's Evolution]._

_Midoriya: Thank you Saiko-san._

_Saiko: What did you think of Yotsuhashi's book?_

_Midoriya: Thought-provoking. _

_Saiko: Any thoughts provoked in particular?_

_Midoriya: Several._

He was being evasive.

_Midoriya: We could discuss it over lunch._

_Midoriya: That's if you're not too busy._

Her understanding of pragmatics and semantics told her that Midoriya's decision to invite her for lunch to discuss a book could either be a straightforward request, or the boy was in fact using the 'discuss it over lunch' card as a method to attempt a social relationship.

_Saiko: I believe I can free up my schedule._

_Midoriya: That's great!_

_Midoriya: I'll text you the address._

_Midoriya: Best of luck with your classes. Extend my greetings to Professor Miyazaki._

She stared at the final message on her phone. Both her brows shot up immediately.

She checked. A laugh escaped her lips. On her contact list, Midoriya's face lay with a large grin. On her specialized app which should have connected her to Midoriya's front camera, there was only, instead, a portrait of her in her College Graduation gown.

* * *

|A Precise Note|

* * *

The sky was blue. Bluer than blue. Sky-blue, was the term. The sky-blue skies were something to behold. Sitting on a roof, dangling his legs left and right, his phone sat beside him, idly providing him with a live-feed of Intelli Saiko's university class.

His right hand dipped into a bag of chips. Salted. His fingers ruffled the contents. The right one was found. Smooth. His index and middle finger picked it up. They tossed it into the air. His teeth caught it. No crunches. No cracks. He kept the chip aside, neatly in a pile. He inhaled, the morning air. Exhaled, carbon dioxide. Inhaled, again, and exhaled, again.

_Be happy._

Two words. A mental command. An imperative given to himself. His body reacted instantly. His mind, reacted instantly. Dopamine and serotonin flooded through his system at a single instance. His lips curled into a beautiful smile. His eyes brightened. Giddiness, swirled through his entire body. He tossed his head back, and let out a large, bellied laugh. Self-provided satisfaction tossed aside any negativity that creeped in. Any questions as to the sanctity of whether or not it was proper to provide himself with such a fine-tuned level of precision over his own emotional states.

"I AM HERE!"

He screamed at the top of his voice, laughing as his voice reverberated across the wind. His heartbeat thrummed in his ears, the rushing of his blood pulsed in his veins, as the absolute control of his own endocrine system rushed him with the absolute sensation of satisfaction.

"Oi! Izuku! What the fuck are you doing on the roof?"

A mop of blonde hair and a scowling face appeared beneath him. Kacchan's sour expression couldn't do anything to but a damper on him.

Izuku couldn't help the happy grin that appeared on his face. "Morning Kacchan!"

"Get the fuck off my roof!"

With another laugh, he turned his body around. A leap of faith, as was common in that videogame series about assassins. A backflip, a spin, latching on to the window with nimble fingers and landing with all his limbs against the frame. Kacchan staggered back from the unexpected landing, scowling at him.

"What's got you in such a good fucking mood?"

"Nothing." He laughed. "Is it weird, being happy for no reason?"

"You really have to ask something that stupid?"

"I think it's weird, instead, that we need a reason to be happy."

"You on something?"

"On?"

"Drugs." Kacchan said. "You fuckin' usin?"

Izuku laughed. "I don't need drugs Kacchan."

"That wasn't a fucking no."

"No, Kacchan."

"So, the reason you look like you just got your balls softly fondled –"

"How would you know what someone who got their balls fondled looks like?"

"I wasn't being fucking literal."

Izuku rose both hands, smiling. "I didn't say you were." The boy chuckled. "Just a funny thought." He snickered. "Fondled." Izuku couldn't stop himself from sniggering. "Fondling."

"Fuck. It's too fucking early for this shit."

"Eh? H-hey, Kacchan, why're you using your qui –"

His body was always in motion. Moving before the explosion reached him. Leaping backwards off the Katsuki's window in a perfect, smooth movement, that left him laughing even harder. He landed, perfectly, and rose his hands up and into the air in mimicry of Olympic gymnasts bowing for the judges.

His body, once more, spun on instinct, latching on to the backpack that was tossed after him. His bag landed in his outstretched hand, as he stared up at the window, to see Katsuki Bakugo's scowling face and extended middle-finger.

"Get your fucking shit together."

That only made Midoriya smile. "You're not going to throw out Sir Kuro too?"

"The cat isn't the one that's acting fucked in the head."

"You can just say you like cuddling him. I won't judge you Kacchan."

The middle finger remained up for much longer, and Midoriya Izuku laughed.

* * *

|A Precise Note|

* * *

He was there. Standing in the kitchen area. The smell of eggs wafted from the kitchen, penetrating her nostrils. She pinched herself. She pinched herself a second time, longer, harder, just for good measure. He was there, in the kitchen, hair neatly tied behind him in a ponytail. _Plus-Ultra-Chef_ apron tied across his waist. Dancing and humming a song she'd heard, but could not identify.

"I-Izuku?"

"Good morning Ka-chan!"

A blinding smile with shining teeth stunned her.

"I-I-Izuku…" her voice cracked. "Is – is it really you?"

"Come on kacchan, I made breakfast."

He approached her, lightly touching her hands and leading her unto the dining. She sat, delirious, unsure, her heart squeezing and burning inside her chest. Before her, a plate of bacon and eggs, smiling at her. A glass of orange juice landed beside her lightly, and Izuku leaned forward, landing a kiss on her right cheek.

"I-Izuku –"

"I've got to hurry or I'll be late for school."

"_S-School_?"

He was in his school uniform. Neat. Ironed.

"Izuku… a-about last night…"

"Ah, last night," The boy scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Sorry about last night Ka-chan. I wasn't really thinking things through and acted like a really spoiled brat."

He bowed. "I said some really hurtful things, and… I'm sorry."

Her son had his head formally bowed, in apology. Her mouth opened, dry breath exhaling, and her lips pressed against each other silently once more.

"I-it's fine –"

Izuku's head went up. He smiled at her. Beamed at her. Her chest tightened. His smile was contagious.

"I'm going to make things up to you."

Midoriya slid a paper across the table, putting it underneath her tray. Her fingers, shaky, picked it up. Trepidation turned to confusion.

"A… flier?"

The flier read: **Ultra Fitness Gym – Mother-Son, Father-Daughter Yoga Classes now in session! ** He handed her another flier: **Rockin' Music Stores! Family Discount on Music Classes! Come with a family member, get rockin' deals! **

"Izuku I-I don't understand."

The third flier came: **Oba-Chan's Bakeries! Bakin' with family is the best way to bake! Discounts available –**

She put down the flier. "What's this about?"

"Ways for us to spend some more time together."

"Spend… more time?"

The boy scratched his chin. "Ka-san, I realized, for years, I've always known what my dream was, and what I wanted to be. But I've never known what dreams _you_ have. And what _you_ want to be. And I realized… I never cared to ask."

His eyes were sparkling. "What… what brought this on?"

The boy shrugged. "I did some thinking, ka-chan. Organized my thoughts. I realize now, what's really important."

"What's… really important?"

Izuku walked around the table. Her son walked behind her, as she was seated, and slowly, leisurely put his hands on her shoulders. The weight of the world vanished from her shoulders immediately. As if some unknown deity had arrived and drained her of all physical stress with a push of a button, she felt the soreness vanish from her muscles, the stiffness vanish from her joints. Her body was relaxed, more relaxed than she could remember. She couldn't remember being so relaxed in _years._

"Your dreams, ka-chan." Her son said. "Tell me your dreams."

She felt as if she was floating. Weightless. On a soft, wandering cloud. Her worries melted like ice cubes on beach sand. The ministration of Izuku's soft, heavenly hands against her shoulders was enough to make her feel a decade younger.

"My dreams…" she began. "I… I was never the office type, or the ambitious type. My quirk wasn't suited for heroics, but… it was amazing at awing children. I remember, before you were born, when I worked at a daycare. When the children got noisy, or loud, or couldn't sleep – I would hide and use my quirk on their toys, and I would make voices, and they would all go quiet and stare, oohing, and ahhing –" she laughed.

"Some of them went on to tell their parents that their toys came to life. It wasn't much, but… I enjoyed that, watching the happiness in young children… attracting toys around them and seeing the wonder in their eyes… and, it made me love that. It… made me want that. All I ever wanted, was to have a family like that, with happiness in the eyes of the children… with happiness, in everyone. So… I… It hurt, a lot more… when you didn't get your quirk… and I felt, I felt I'd failed… the one thing I wanted, was to have a happy family, and yet… I couldn't even give my own son happiness."

Izuku's arms slowly embraced around her.

"It's fine, ka-chan. You didn't fail."

He knelt beside her, a brilliant, smile on his face.

"You didn't fail."

"I…Izuku…"

Her son's smile grew.

"So, does that mean you want tons and tons smiling grandchildren?"

"Oh, Izuku!" Inko laughed, wiping a tear from her eye. "You're a bit too young for that right now. I just want you to pursue your dreams first. Finish school. Become the hero you've always wanted to be. Shine brightly – and you'll make your mother the happiest mother in the world."

Midoriya Izuku gave a faux salute of attention, his sparkling teeth grinning. "Yes Ma'am!"

"Oh, come of it."

"As you wish, Ma'am!"

Inko laughed, as Izuku acted the role of a military soldier. He placed his right hand across his chest.

"Midoriya Izuku will accomplish that dream! Whatever it takes!"

His eyes sparkled as he made his declaration.

"Whatever it takes."

* * *

|A Precise Note|

* * *

"Thank you so much Midoriya-kun! I don't know what I'd have done without my notebook."

"You're welcome!" Midoriya beamed.

"Thank you Midoriya-kun!"

"You're welcome!" Midoriya bowed.

"Midoriya-kun! I saw your All Might drawings in my classroom! You're awesome!"

"Midoriya-kun found my missing pen! Isn't he thoughtful?"

"Midoriya-kun – could – could I get your help?"

"Midoriya-kun!"

"Midoriya-kun!"

Katsuki Bakugo stared, with one twitching eye at the unbelievable change in class dynamics. The girls of the class hoarded around Midoriya as if he were the Buddha giving tips to achieve enlightenment. _He might as well fucking be…_

"Psst. Katsuki."

Bakugo turned a lazy eye to the side, growling underneath his breath as he noticed the classmate that was calling out to him.

"The fuck do you want, boner-face?"

The boy scowled. "My name is Matsuda."

"Don't remember fuckin' asking."

"Asshole. Just wanted to ask if you know what's up with Izuku."

"Fuck if I know."

It irked him. The sniveling, whining, always with his head-in-the-clouds Midoriya had gone to sleep on his floor last night after having some sort of fight with his mom, and woke up this morning suddenly looking like he'd figured out the secret to immortality. Or at least, if not immortality, the secret to eternal happiness.

"Jealous that he's suddenly the class chick magnet?"

"Who would give a fuck about that?"

Matsuda pointed. "Most of the guys for starters." There were a group of boys, glaring daggers in Midoriya's direction. "…who knew all Midoriya needed to be to become a chick magnet was to be happy?"

Katsuki gave a side-glance to the nerd in question. From the tone of his laughs, to the airy nature of his steps and enthusiastic movements of his limbs, it was plain to anyone with a pair of eyes that the boy wasn't faking it. Fake happiness was easy to sniff out.

Genuine happiness meant an absolute lack of care of his own social anxiety and awkwardness. A disregard for his own shyness and self-doubt. He didn't give a shit about anyone's opinions or perceived image. Whether someone hated him or loved him didn't add jack weight on their shoulders. By being happy, the nerd was stupidly self-confident. Anyone with a pair of eyes could tell you that genuine self-confidence was attractive as fuck.

"Midoriya-kun!"

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch break. There were numerous sighs and complaints as girls from different classes had to leave and Midoriya Izuku found himself back in his seat, humming a soft tune to himself. Katsuki gave him a side glance out of the corner of his eye.

"Something bothering you, Kacchan?"

"…you deal with your shit?"

Izuku nodded. "Ka-chan and I are going for family music-classes start Saturday. Then family baking class on Sunday. We're trying to find some room for finger-painting and yoga –"

"Too much info." Katsuki said. "Just wanted to make sure you did what you needed to."

The bastard almost blinded him with his smile again. _Fucking shiny teeth – _"Fuck. Turn off your teeth Izuku."

"You know, you and Mitsuki-san could join us –"

"Not a fucking chance."

Izuku placed his hands at the back of his head. "You ever wonder why we never hear about All Might's wife?"

"All Might doesn't have a fucking wife. What're you on about?"

"Yeah. We never hear of his kids either. Or family." Izuku smiled. "To be the greatest hero…" The boy's gaze went elsewhere. "I wonder how lonely he is."

Izuku didn't bother him for the rest of class. He buried his nose instead, into books. New ones. Thick ones. Books that looked like medical textbooks. Katsuki, too, attempted to focus on class. To keep his own attention on the words coming out of the teacher's mouth. To stop himself from thinking over those stupid six words.

The profession of Pro Hero came with numerous risks. He fucking knew that. As the world knew your real name, birthday, and in some cases, where you fucking lived, ate and shat, there was always that chance of a villain choosing to hit you where it hurts the most. Many heroes had died due to this. Some of them were not even bigshots, just some up-and-comer who managed to take down one nameless villain, only for the nameless villain's buddies to take revenge by showing up at the hero's house unannounced and fucking shit up.

For that reason Pro Heroes married other Pro Heroes as protection, but it only just meant the relationship had a higher chance of ending than normal. Death was part and parcel of the business, often as guaranteed as the corporate merchandizing.

"…you said the music classes are on Saturday?"

Izuku's bullshit teeth blinded him for the second time that afternoon.

* * *

|A Precise Note|

* * *

He'd been waiting for biology class. Particularly, he'd been waiting for them to make use of the laboratory. The smell of bleach and the faint ting of sterilized air tickled his nostrils as they trooped into the white-walled room. His ears picked up on the tiniest hints of conversation and gossip, twitching occasionally once he heard his name being mentioned.

His body was still creating serotonin and dopamine, creating and renewing it constantly. The cost of manipulating his own body chemistry came with slightly restless fingers that rattled away at his sides and drummed incessantly to a note of their own rhythm.

"Pair up. We're going to be doing some dissection today. The person to your left is your partner for this exercise."

The teacher's announcement came along with groans of complaint. He forced down the sensation of laughter that was bubbling in his throat. His partner was a girl in his class. Suzume, he believed her name was. She was avoiding eye contact. He noticed, her hands, moving restlessly as she tapped them against the hem of her skirt.

"Remember, lab safety is always first!"

Washing his hands under cool water did little to stop him from breaking out into pleasant humming. He found himself, slowly biting down on his lower lip, silently giving a mental command to reduce the production of serotonin in his system. Giddiness wasn't what he needed while in the laboratory. Granted, his quirk would still guarantee the precision of his cuts and incisions even if he were giddy.

The rubber gloves smacked unto his skin comfortably. His partner had hers in hand. "Suzume-san are you ready?"

"Um… a-actually I think I should get a different partner."

"Something wrong?"

She rubbed her shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed. Her breathing was uneven. He could hear her heartbeat from where he stood. Fast. Thrumming. Pulsating within her chest.

"Do – do you mind?"

Suzume. A girl in his class who was always irritable when she sat next to Kacchan, and specially requested to be moved away from him. A girl who also vehemently hated to be seated next to Matsuda. He cursed softly underneath his breath as he closed his eyes.

_Stop Happiness_.

The withdrawal of feel-good hormones made Izuku feel ill. He didn't have the motivation to continue the class anymore. To continue… _anything_. _He should just die and save himself a pointless existence…_

_Apply little dopamine._

A steady level. Not overdosed on happiness, but not completely deprived of it. The girl beside him breathed a sigh of relief. "H-how did you do that?"

"Sorry."

"Most people can't just… fine-tune their emotions like that."

His lips pressed against each other. "…it felt worse for you?"

She snapped her gloves on, turning her gaze unto the table and the rat specimen present on it. "It felt like my heart was going to explode. So much… happiness and warmth. It was overwhelming."

Izuku cringed. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"I – I didn't dislike it."

He tried to focus his attention on anywhere but the auburn-haired girl. The rat, pinned to the table. The white floor shining with his reflection. The fluorescent bulbs. The white ceiling. Anything, anywhere, but on her face.

The teacher went around the room, talking about the scientific method, narrating the proper mindset needed to conduct scientific research. He reprimanded some boys who were toying with their rat. Reprimanded some girls who handled the animal with less respect than feces. Izuku found the man's words blurring into one another. The room was continuously greyer. Darker. There was little color, to it all. Without the flood of happiness, his mental state defaulted to something unusual.

He realized he cared little, for the teacher's rants. Cared, little, for the students, who would most likely never reference this class for anything in the future. Cared little, for the gathered white rodents, all of which would be sacrificed in the name of scientific discovery, used for nothing more than teaching a bunch of distracted children about the finer parts of rodent anatomy.

How amusing, would it be, for some stranger, higher being, to come along and place them on a table. Muttering and laughing as their very lives were used as nothing more than an example for young, disinterested ingrates. Perhaps, it would be less amusing, then. Perhaps, in his goal to equalize the unfairness of the nature of quirks in society, he would find the most callous of humans, and render upon them that same level of treatment – laboratory rats for pointless illustrations.

"Go back."

Suzume's gloved hand grabbed his. With half-lidded eyes, he stared at her. There was something in her gaze. Concern? Curiosity? Care? Strange. Why would she care for him?

"Back." She hissed, squeezing his hand.

"Back?" he drawled.

"To the happy you. This you… it's scary. You're scaring me."

"Oh, look, in my hand," He gestured at his open palm. "All the reasons I care." He blew unto his empty palm. "Gone. Just like that."

He was scaring her? What a brilliantly wonderful facet of information that did nothing to change his day. Was it supposed to be his fault she was born with a quirk that enabled her to feel other's emotions? As it stood, he couldn't feel any emotions whatsoever. There was nothing particularly fearsome about his emotional state. He simply didn't care. He didn't care, for her. Didn't care for his classmates. Didn't care too much about anything… or anyone.

He didn't even care about his drea –

_BE HAPPY._

The floodgates of happiness burst open and he banished the final stray thought before it arrived. Suzume beside him shuddered slightly, letting go of his hand as if she'd been burned.

"Sorry! I'm sorry – did – did I –"

"Get help Midoriya."

She took permission from the teacher, excusing herself from the class. Midoriya mediated on his lack of a partner for a few seconds. He found himself unbothered by it. He would give a token of apology to Suzume later. She didn't understand why he needed to do what it was that he did. He couldn't fault her reaction.

The rodent lay on the table, waiting for dissection. Izuku picked up the scalpel, and humming to himself a jaunty tune, he went to work.

His classmates and teacher would eventually gather, all focused on his procedure. Dissecting a rat was easy, primitive, but to open the skull of a rat without killing it, and test its motor reflexes by prodding its brain was a different task. Brain surgery was simpler on smaller creatures like rodents with their uncomplicated systems. His quirk guided his hands and filled in the gaps in his knowledge.

_I could add some things here… remove some things… _

Suturing the wounds and completing his surgery brought him with the knowledge that he was the only one to dissect on a rat and not kill it. His little white rat was still alive, though, the modifications he made on the creature's brain wouldn't be noticeable until it was fully healed.

"Midoriya-kun…" his sensei cleared his throat. "What… did you do to that rodent?"

"Just a minor surgery to tweak its parasympathetic nervous system, sensei." Izuku chirped.

"A surgery? With… school equipment?"

"I'll come back to check up on him." Izuku said. "Do you mind sensei?"

"…no. not at all. Do… as you will, Midoriya."

His classmates and his teacher were acting oddly after he'd finished his procedure. He could still hear the whispers of his name on their lips, but there was a difference in the tone by which they uttered it. Leaving the classroom, Midoriya hummed a soft tune to himself as he decided that it ultimately made no difference.

He was ecstatic instead, at the discovery that his quirk could in-fact enable him to perform complex tasks like surgery flawlessly. Although his quirk helped him with some of areas where he was lacking knowledge, it couldn't however be used with zero knowledge whatsoever. His hands were guided, as if he were being possessed by an external force which alit his nerves with the muscle memory of performing a procedure he possessed only the basics of.

If he wanted to further gain expertise in the subject, he would need to watch videos and recordings of more complicated procedures so he could mimic them. The more he watched, the larger the reservoir of knowledge, and the vaster his quirk evolved.

He reached one of the school's water fountains, drinking from it, while allowing his mind to expand and think further. Applying _Precision_ on his brain had increased his neuroplasticity. His ability to learn, digest, and absorb information. More than that, he'd gained a form of subliminal pattern recognition which he was only beginning to discover. His brain was taking in the details of the world, memorizing and recording everything, and on its own, in the background, things which seemed to possess a connection were immediately grouped together, with cause-and-effect playing out before him.

The hallway was a cornucopia of information, and his brain was highlighting and predicting the possibilities of the next several minutes using nothing but that information. The student, with a stack full of papers, marching blindly forward. The girls, filing their nails at the corner, gossiping about the fashion choices of a female celebrity. The asthmatic student, puffing angrily at his empty inhaler, coughing while a boy with a smoke-emitting quirk laughed.

Midoriya Izuku's time slowed.

_Boy opens window. Heavy wind. Southbound. Papers fly into the air. Skirts, up. Blinded. Slips. Falls – face-first._

Izuku blinked. He stared, idly, as the events played out. The asthmatic rushed to the windows, swinging them open. The girls squealed as they forced their skirts down. The boy with the paper stacks slipped, his papers soaring through the air. His landing trajectory –

"Oh my fucking god!"

Izuku closed one eye in slight grimace.

"Whoa. And I thought shit like this only happened in ecchi manga."

The voice came from behind him. Matsuda whistled softly over the sound of heavy slaps being rendered to the lucky, or 'unlucky' pervert as it were. "Nice panties ladies!"

"Fuck off Minoru!"

Izuku blinked. "Move three inches to your left."

"Huh?"

"Now."

Matsuda did as he instructed. A baseball tore through the open window, tearing through the spot where his head had been, and smashing into a wall.

"What the fuck?"

The boy ducked his head low, making Izuku's lips twitch. "It's fine, Matsuda-san."

"Since when can you see the future?"

Izuku pursed his lips. "I can't."

"Bullshit. What was that then?"

"…predicting outcomes based on recognizing patterns in an established system?" he tried, smiling awkwardly. "I'm just figuring out the kinks of it myself."

Matsuda squinted at him. "You…" His eyes began to largen. "Don't tell me… you used your quirk on your brain?"

"I did."

Matsuda whistled. "You haven't gone psycho yet, so I'm assuming you did something right. What's it like?"

"I can change and set my emotional states at will. My brain picks up on information faster. I have memories of being born and I can't forget the odd pattern on a falling leaf I saw this morning because it landed on a crack that wasn't on the road before."

"Memories of – controlling emo – " Matsuda whistled again. "Damn." He smacked his hands together. "So _that's_ why you've been in a good mood all day. And here I was thinking you got laid or something." Matsuda's eyes widened. "Oh, oh – wait, if you can control all aspects of your brain, doesn't that mean that when you sleep you'll always have lucid dreams you can control?"

"I guess?"

"And doesn't that mean you can make yourself hallucinate on command?"

"Why would I want to make myself hallucinate?"

Matsuda's grin was dastardly. "Instant sexy daydream. If you could give yourself audio, visual and tactile hallucinations… that would be epic. Go on, go on – test it out."

Self-induced hallucinations were something he was leery about experimenting on. "What am I supposed to hallucinate?"

"Try tactile hallucinations. Make yourself feel something that isn't happening. Like… like someone rubbing your hands."

Midoriya Izuku closed his eyes. He envisioned it, just as Matsuda insisted. Just as he thought of it, he felt a hand reach out slowly caress his arm.

"That's not funny Matsuda."

"What?"

"Stop rubbing my arm."

"I'm… not."

Izuku's eyes snapped open. Matsuda's hands were in the air in a gesture of innocence. Izuku stared at his hand, and he realized he could _still_ feel it. Still feel the sensation of someone lightly, softly rubbing up and down his hand.

"That, Izuku-kun," Matsuda said, "Is the frightening power of the human brain."

"…do you have any other ideas, for things I could do?"

Matsuda hummed, tapping his chin with his index finger. "Well, you could turn your mind palaces into actual palaces by throwing visual hallucinations into the mix. You could make yourself drunk or high on command, which'd be pretty cool for party tricks – or just close your eyes and imagine getting a blowjob and viola, your figment of your imagination arrives and starts to do the deed. Though, if it _feels_ real, is it still a figment of your imagination?"

"Any… _useful_ ideas?"

Matsuda crossed his arms. "Prude. Whatever. How about you try giving yourself synesthesia?"

"Synesthesia?"

"You know. Smelling colors. Tasting sounds. That whole stuff." Matsuda shrugged. "I doubt it'll be all that useful, but it's a new experience." The boy sighed. "Man, I'm so freaking jealous. Wish I could rent your quirk for a day. All I can do is gain some muscle and facial hair and turn horny."

"Maybe you could try extending your quirk… outwards?" Izuku suggested.

"What do you mean?"

"Like… like Midnight. Maybe… you could make yourself secrete pheromones or a strong scent?" The boy wagered. "I mean, I'm not sure it would work but…"

The taller boy's face went blank. The expression of a man who'd been given groundbreaking news. "Secrete… pheromones…" he muttered. "…that… that could work. Sorry, Midoriya… I need to… yeah. See you around."

Matsuda departed, muttering to himself in a manner reminiscent to Izuku's own habit.

_Ah… well, I think I've given Matsuda some things to think over._

Izuku glanced at his wristwatch, making sure to check how many hours were left until the end of the day. His meeting with Saiko would take place, and he needed things to progress smoothly in order to pursue his goal.

Clenching his fist, Izuku steeled his mind.

"Whatever it takes."

* * *

|A Precise Note|

* * *

The restaurant was surprisingly high-end. Surprisingly, as apparently one needed a reservation to be able to get a seat, and she almost doubted as to whether or not Midoriya Izuku had texted her the wrong address. Seeing him seated within, school uniform still in place, smile on his face, as he politely gestured her over, made her realize that there was no error.

In a surprising display of chivalry, he rose, took her right hand, and delivered a soft, chaste kiss on her fingers.

"Intelli-san," he greeted.

She doubted, for several seconds, if she was meeting the same Midoriya Izuku she'd met a day prior. She doubted, further still, when the boy went through the motions of helping her with her seat.

There was an odd charm to him, in that there was a pleasant, broad smile on his face throughout the proceedings of his traditional acts of chivalry. Traditional, and also highly unexpected.

"You've certainly gone to a great deal of effort to impress me."

"I want to change the system."

No preamble. No long-winded introduction. Midoriya Izuku's palms were steepled, and his polite smile was accompanied with a contradictory veneer of professionalism. Saiko understood immediately that she'd misread the boy's intentions. Misunderstood the reason he'd invited her here. This wasn't a cordial meeting.

"Doesn't everyone?" She reached for the menu, opening it and taking a casual glance.

"Most people seem content with how things are. Heroes… villains… quirks that cause you misfortune or decide your destiny…" Midoriya's right hand clenched. "I can't accept it. I can't accept a world where my entire life is determined by an ability I didn't choose at birth. I hear it, everywhere, all the time. My mother, she wasn't born with a flashy quirk, and she choose a simple life for it. My friend, Katsuki, because he was born with a flashy quirk, everyone told him he'd make a great hero, and – and I don't think he's ever even considered that he could be anything else but that. Matsuda – he wants to become an adult film star because he's worried his quirk will get him into trouble if he tries to just take a normal job –"

"Even I… I never believed that I could do anything because I didn't have a quirk. The whole world – everyone – we have it in our heads that we are nothing but the sums of the ability we are born with. I – I don't want, that. I hate, that. We – we are so, so much more than just our quirks."

She closed the menu. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Equal the playing field." He gestured with his palms. "If… if I could study more, learn more about the Quirk Factor… I'll think about how to create inhibitor devices, or – or something biological… like serums – medication."

"Serums that inhibit people's quirks?"

"As a stopgap, temporary measure," he explained. "To make life easier for people with troublesome quirks. If there was something, like over-the-counter medication that was globally available, people like Matsuda who are born with quirks that'd otherwise make them have difficult lives could live without fear or worry."

The waiter arrived, pen in hand. "Tea. Chamomile."

"A water will be fine, thank you." Midoriya said on his behalf.

The waiter departed, and she began her cross-examination. "As inspiring as your motives are Midoriya-kun, you're forgetting something. Quirks are a power status. With the end of Pre-Quirk society, a new arms race began: the superhuman arms race. Quirks and heroes are the nuclear armaments of society. Can you imagine a society where anti-nuclear devices can be found at every corner drugstore? Where all that is needed for a layman to take down a god is to purchase some pills from a pharmacy?"

"I'll make it work based on intent." Midoriya said.

"You're surely jesting."

"If the anti-quirk serum detects a strong resistance – it'll fail to take effect. So people can't abuse it – can't use it on those who aren't willing."

Saiko laughed. "So, what, you want to invent drugs that require consent to work? Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds? Human biology isn't that convenient Midoriya-kun."

He wasn't disturbed. "There are quirks that allow people to manipulate forces like time, space and gravity. Quirks that allow people to interfere with laws of physics. Is a drug that works based on a person's mental willingness any less ridiculous than someone who can change the weather with a punch or create a black hole with a finger?"

She pursed her lips. "I'll admit, when you put it that way it does seem feasible." She sighed. "Of course, all of this is mostly conjecture, but assuming you do somehow succeed in creating this anti-quirk medication… I assume you have other plans for quirk society?"

"Several," Midoriya nodded his head, excitedly. "I've been thinking of ways to abolish the entire hero and villain system entirely. Devices that can use algorithms to predict the likelihood of a crime occurring and prevent it before it does. An entire revamp of the country's architecture that'll increase efficiency and productivity. A method of highlighting and cultivating the individual talents in people and calculating the best ways for them to achieve happiness and satisfaction –"

"It seems I underestimated your ambition."

"I've always been stubbornly ambitious. Just… for the most part, I focused my ambition on becoming a Hero."

"You make it sound like you've given up that ambition."

"I haven't."

Saiko's brow quirked. "You _still_ want to be a Pro Hero?"

"Most of my plans won't work without public support and approval. The fastest way to get that is to be a hero, even if I do intend to make the system obsolete." He explained. "Also, there _are_ Pro-Heroes who have part-time jobs, such as Cementoss and Best Jeanist. Being a Pro-Hero will also allow me access to amazing people and places… much better than if I tried to do it all alone."

The waiter arrived. On Midoriya's end, a glass of chilled water was placed. On her end, the tea she requested came in an elegant flower-patterned cup. Cube sugars and packet milk came in a smaller cup, for which she nodded appreciatively to the waiter.

"Tell me, Midoriya-kun, you seem to have your plan all figured out. So, what role exactly do I play in all of this?"

"You want to make things better… don't you?"

"I have my own goals Midoriya-kun. My own plans and my own methods. For the most part, none of your goals clash with mine, but that does not mean I'm interested in a partnership."

Midoriya's smile dropped. "You're… not?"

"I know what you want. Funding. Support. But from the standpoint of an investor – all you have are grand plans with no means to achieve them. Scientists are still researching and discovering new things about the quirk factor. So far, no one has discovered a breakthrough that'll allow them to create an anti-quirk serum. You expect me to believe that a boy who's still in middle school and has zero research experience will somehow crack the code within what, months? Years?"

"Those scientists aren't me. I can –"

"So, you're saying you, Midoriya Izuku, middle schooler, are superior to the world's greatest scientists?"

"I'm not. But my quirk –"

"Precision, yes." Saiko slowly picked up her cup. "I know your quirk Midoriya-kun. And I'm telling you, even with your quirk, it'll take you several decades to be able to create the drug you're dreaming of. If at all you succeed, assuming your life isn't cut short by your insistence on becoming a Pro Hero or assuming you do not somehow arouse the ire of some villain that leaves you crippled or incapacitated."

"That won't happen."

"You're not clairvoyant Midoriya. It's easy to fall prey to the survivorship bias, and believe you're special. the numbers insist otherwise." Saiko waved her hand. "That aside, drugs typically require several years of testing and verifying by the government. The odds are higher that the government will bury it in bureaucratic red tape for years upon years, while utilizing it in military campaigns as a secret weapon against foreign powers. It'll be a miracle if your drug ever sees the light of day at all."

"…what are you saying?"

"The status quo doesn't like to be changed." She gestured around them. "The nail that sticks out will be hammered down. While it's great to have such lofty ambitions, I can't invest in optimism and ambition alone. Perhaps if you had something – something tangible that proves you can create what you claim you can – I'd have considered it. Unfortunately, Midoriya-kun – all you have are words."

There was a shift in his temperament. His eyes, she noticed immediately, became half-lidded. His body posture relaxed, dangerously so. There was a flicker of something in his half-lidded, semi-focused eyes that sent an unwilling shudder down her spine. The very air around him changed so much for a second that she felt he'd been replaced by a doppelganger.

"So," his speech _drawled_. "You're saying you don't believe I can do it?"

She pursed her lips. "Midoriya… are you… altering your mental state?"

"You didn't answer my question."

_Definitely controlling his mental state_, she noted. _Curious_. It explained how the shy, socially-awkward boy she met yesterday managed to gain the necessary confidence to perform acts of chivalry.

"Listen, Midoriya-kun. If there was, somehow, a person out there who managed to devise a serum that could inhibit or stop quirks – that person would be feared. Governments, society, individuals with personal stakes – all would be filled with dread at the existence of such a person, and try to eliminate them. They would have created something which could completely upend society and civilization as we know it. They would become, simultaneously, the most powerful and most wanted in the world. Midoriya-kun, do you believe you have what it takes to bear that burden?"

With unflinching eyes, the boy's head tilted forward.

"Whatever it takes."

She hadn't expected such an immediate answer.

"Forgive me, Midoriya-kun – but you don't strike me as the type of person willing to compromise his own beliefs for the sake of a goal. Sacrifice yourself, perhaps. But sacrifice others?"

"That's the second time you've doubted me, Saiko-san."

She rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingers. _You stubborn little…_ She remembered that Midoriya Izuku possessed a warped psyche that absolutely could not stomach someone's lack of faith or belief in another person. Expressing her doubt in his conviction would only serve to push him away from her further.

"Alright, Midoriya. If you believe you're up to the task of upending society – I'll send you in the right direction." She reached for her bag, bringing up her phone. She tapped several buttons, while muttering underneath her breath. "I've just sent you the co-ordinates of a location I suspect to be the known trading spot of an individual that sells the black-market quirk enhancement drug commonly known as Trigger."

His brows rose. His temperament, changed and softened all at once, as his face scrunched up in visible confusion. "W-what?"

"Trigger is a quirk enhancing drug, but it comes with the downside of reducing higher brain function and intellect of those who use it, throwing them into a berserk, aggressive state. If you so believe yourself capable of alchemy – then analyze the substance and dilute it. Create a pure version of it that works without the mental drawbacks." She said. "If you can't even manage this basic level of chemistry, you might as well give up on creating your 'consent drugs.'"

The boy didn't answer. His nose was furrowed. Brows, furrowed. Hands, steepled in thought.

Of course, what she failed to mention that this was certainly a task far above and beyond 'basic' chemistry. Trigger was a world-renowned drug with suspected origins in Japan, and different individuals had tried to analyze and crack the code as to what were the components of a liquid that could immediately enhance the quirk factor of individuals. Scientists in laboratories across the world were stumped, and had failed, time and again to isolate the quirk-factor boosting part of Trigger from the mind-altering aspects of it.

The person who invented the Trigger drug was a certified chemical genius, worthy of a Nobel prize. A once-in-a-lifetime savant that Saiko would compare to the Pre-Quirk era Einstein or Hawking. There were theories that the person possessed a quirk that allowed them to alter chemical bonds at an atomic level, which was the only reason why the individual could create Trigger in the first place.

In essence, she was tasking Midoriya with an incredibly difficult task straight out the gate. _Not that he knows that._

She rose from her seat, neatly patting herself down. "Once you've succeeded, Midoriya-kun, I'll believe that you're serious about this. I'll invest all my family's fortune in you. Anything at all you want. But if you fail to succeed at this…"

She left the sentence hanging.

"I'll be seeing you, Midoriya-kun. Extend my greetings to Matsuda-kun."

* * *

|A Precise Note|

* * *

_Most powerful and most wanted in the world_.

Midoriya Izuku walked with his body on autopilot. Avoiding pedestrians and obstacles with his hands in his pockets, he replayed his meeting with Saiko in his head for the millionth time.

_The odds are higher that the government will bury it in bureaucratic red tape…_

He kicked a stone on the cobbled pavement. The long streets brought him no ease of mind. He could not tell if Saiko was being pessimistic, or if it was that he had been too optimistic about the method he wanted to use to accomplish his goals. All he wanted was to help those whose quirks lingered on the dangerous end of extreme. Those whose quirks forced them into a particular lifestyle. Yet, just to be able to grant these people a brief reprieve from the harshness of daily life was a mission which would put him in the crosshairs of the entire world?

_It doesn't matter! You've already decided. Whatever it takes. Whatever it takes, Izuku! You're going to do this!_

Midoriya sighed as he scratched the back of his head. His body's serotonin and dopamine production had dipped while in the conversation. He'd been hurt, upset, at Saiko's words. At Saiko's lack of belief in him. Upset enough for him to default his emotional state to the lower-range. That state in which he found it difficult to care about anyone or anything. The _Apathy State_ was what he termed it. It was oddly relieving, to _not care_ sometimes. Though, he couldn't stay in that state for too long, as the _not-caring_ tended to be rather indiscriminate.

"Saiko-san said the alley on Hirohito Street is the location…?"

Midoriya's only experience with drugs was pain-medication from the times when he was bullied. When he was younger, he got vaccinations against different viruses and diseases that were supposedly highly dangerous in the past. Asides from those two instances, he'd never had much to do with medicine or drugs. He'd never so much as bought over-the-counter supplements before, yet alone antibiotics needed for a cold.

Now, he was stalking down the streets late in the evening, to try and buy a black-market quirk-enhancer. _Trigger_.

Midoriya's brain filtered information and searched for any recollection or information he had regarding the topic. Newspaper snippets he'd glanced. Idle conversations from a news report on the television. Talk shows on anti-drug campaigns on the radio. Every reference and every mention of the word _Trigger_ was catalogued in his brain. Taking a deep breath, he commanded his brain to present the information before him in the form of a visual hallucination.

The hallucination was vivid. The screens in front of him, replaying images and memories of his encounter with the word _Trigger_ appeared as if he were using a high-tech holographic device. His body moved on autopilot as he began to sort through the snippets of data.

_Newspaper articles mentioning dangers of new drug, Trigger…_

_Pop-up advertisements on Matsuda's porn sites for 'quirk-boosting' medication…_

_Talk show host discussing Trigger in the background TV of Kacchan's house…_

He made a right turn, avoiding bumping into a couple on the street. _Trigger is well-known for it's ability to enhance the quirks of individuals, and is most commonly used by people who have quirks that are lacking in offensive capability… duration depends on strain, some variants lasting a few minutes, and others extending towards several hours… reason for difference in strain efficiency debated… arguments for prototype batches being mixed in with purer batches?_

Muttering underneath his breath, Izuku Midoriya rearranged the floating panels of information.

_Arguments for why the drug boosts aggression – co-relation between quirk-factor and aggression in studies? Studies debunked… theories for Trigger being used as a super-serum – mass produced for military purposes?_

Dodging a lamppost and giving a cheery nod to a passing policeman, Izuku found himself scratching the back of his head as he sorted through more information.

_Connections link Trigger to the Japanese Yakuza. Mentions of Japan's growing Yakuza force – news reports discuss reduction of gang-related violence – different organizations of Yakuza being submerged under one global force…_

Midoriya stopped in the middle of the road, staring at the floating name that hovered in his vision. His brain, rewired for subconscious pattern recognition, all pointing directly at the floating name, telling him, somehow, someway, that the drug Trigger was related directly to it.

"Shie Hassaikai?"

_Shie Hassaikai – Eight Precepts – The Eight – Dangerous – national Yakuza organization – members: unknown, goals: unknown. Listed on villain watchlist – mentions appear on quarantined toxic internet forums…_

Izuku rubbed the back of his head. "Relax, Izuku! R-relax!"

He just needed to purchase their product. That was all. It wasn't like he was going to fight them. He just wanted their product. Taking another right turn, he confirmed that he was, indeed, at one of the prescribed locations Saiko had sent to his phone. The alley was darker than most, littered with empty beer cans and snuffed cigarettes. Izuku groaned as he tried his hardest to avoid stepping on one or two used condoms, making his way further in to the alley as he tried to search for someone.

_I don't even know how much the drug is supposed to cost…_

He still had his lunch money, at least. He hoped it would be enough.

"…hello?"

There was no one in the alley.

"Drug Dealer-san?"

The further he went in, away from the light, the more he realized that there was a horrible stench originating from within. His eyes watered up immediately. His first instinct was to gag, but he managed to force down the instinct. The smell was disgusting, and it was certainly getting stronger as it mixed in with the scent of blood.

Midoriya's sensation of time slowed.

_Blood. A lot of blood. Massive blood loss. Figure in the shadows. Beer can, tossed. Lunge. Left. Right. Toss._

His quirk blurred into life. He tilted his head, dodging the empty beer can tossed in his direction. With a brief spin, he evaded the knife that swung out of the shadows aiming for his neck. He stepped to the right, dodging the left swing, and leaned to the left, to dodge the right swing.

The knife left his attacker's hand, and his own right hand came up, plucking the object from the air seconds before impact.

He could hear his heart, beating fast. The blade, inches away from his skull. The intent to kill so overwhelming that it flooded his body with adrenaline. The overwhelming flood of adrenaline was something Midoriya didn't expect. So much of it that he found his lips actually spreading into a smile from just how hard his blood was pumping in his system. He couldn't remember the last time he did anything that actually made his heart beat fast.

"Are… are you the… dealer?"

His attacker was a girl that almost looked to be his age. Blood dripped freely from her chin, dropping unto her naked body. _Naked?_ He forced his eyes to stay at gaze-level. Yet, he did glimpse down, and a single glimpse was all it took for the sight to be burned permanently into his memory. He could tell from his body's production of a certain hormone that he liked what he saw. He forced down the thoughts and cleared his head.

The girl giggled, biting softly on her fingers as her face contorted into one that left Midoriya uncomfortable. "I'm going to kill you~"

"W-wait, you really _shouldn't –_"

She ran at him. She ran straight at him. Izuku groaned. He'd been sparring with Katsuki Bakugo for ages. Compared to someone who could augment his speed with explosions and change directions and actions on a dime… y_our movements are slow._

_Slow and predictable._

Dodging underneath her first punch, he drew from images of martial arts movies he'd watched, and the brief scenes of wrestling and mixed martial arts he'd seen throughout his lifetime. The years of his experience being bullied, watching bullies, and understanding the necessary strength and strategy needed to bully someone.

His hand smacked away her pitiable defenses and he went in close, spinning her around and slamming her into the ground with both hands behind her back. He placed his knee against her back for good measure, ensuring she couldn't escape.

"Sorry," he said, sheepishly. "…you're actually the first person who's tried to kill me. A lot of people will be sad if I die, and I have a lot of things I want to accomplish… so I can't really hold back against someone who wants to take my life."

She tried to struggle. Tried to wriggle free. He didn't give her the opportunity.

"Um… can you… stop? This – this is kind of awkward because you're not wearing any clothes and if someone came along they might think I was doing something… bad."

From the angle of an outside observer… Izuku knew he was compromised. No amount of explaining would come out quick enough to justify why he pinned a naked girl to the ground and was on top of her.

"My name's Izuku." He began. "Midoriya Izuku. What's yours?"

The girl didn't respond.

"Is there a problem you have?" Izuku asked. "I don't believe people just try to kill others without reason. Especially strangers. If you're in trouble or need any help – I can help you out."

The girl laughed. "You're so funny Izuku-kun."

Izuku frowned. "Why did you try to kill me?"

"Let me go and I'll show you~"

"Does it have something to do with your quirk?"

"Izuku-kun says the funniest things."

"So it _does_ have to do with your quirk." He scratched the back of his head and sighed. "Another one…"

People whose quirks made them _different_.

"…do you know where the Trigger dealer in this area is supposed to be?"

"He's gone."

"Gone?"

The girl sung. "Gone~"

Izuku's gaze went into the darkness. He could make out a vaguely human outline on the floor. Human, and unmoving.

_Dead. Dead. Dead._

Murder. Murderer.

_Crime. Murder. Turn her in. Police. Arrest. Right thing._

The right thing to do. The right thing to do was to call the police immediately. To let the police arrest her. Take her away. She killed someone. Ended a human life. What justification could she have? None. None at all. It was inexcusable. There was no justification whatsoever for ending a human life.

If he called in the police now, they would take the body. They would also take away the Trigger that was on the body. More so, it would bring questions. Investigations. What was he doing, at this secluded alleyway, so late at night? What would he tell them? He'd been going for a stroll? He'd lie? He'd tell them the truth, that he'd been here with the purpose to buy drugs?

It'd be on his record. Something like that could be traced back to him. It was something minor, but it would affect him in the long run. What if it damaged his odds of entering UA? What if it was brought up, against him in the future as an argument?

_Do the right thing._

The right thing. The right thing. The right thing to do would be to get a murderer off the streets. But at what cost? At the cost of his future? At the cost of the dozens of people suffering, the lives he would save, the lives he would improve? He needed that Trigger. He needed to analyze it, research it, and prove to Saiko he knew what he was doing. Prove that he had the conviction to do what he said he would.

_Whatever it takes._

He regretted telling her his name, now. Had he not done so, he would have been able to absolve himself from the situation. Take the trigger, leave her tied up, and leave an anonymous tip to the police to come pick her up. He couldn't do that, now that she knew his name. She had no reason to not give his name to the police once they asked her how she got tied up.

"I'm going to let you go." He said, slowly. "Please don't attack me. You've already killed someone. I might break your limbs if you attack me, if only so you can't use them to kill anyone ever again."

The girl shuddered from his words. Shuddered and let out a short, rasping breath.

He rose, cautiously, from her back. She spun around on a dime and lunged at him with her… lips?

His right hand blurred into motion, slamming his palm on the underside of her jaw. The light in her eyes faded. He stepped aside as she collapsed to the ground, out cold. Midoriya sighed, giving one last glance to the girl before approaching the body of the trigger dealer and steeling his mind.

_Whatever it takes._


	7. Assurance

**It's been a really shitty past few weeks already. Man. I'm not going to even bother mentioning the dreaded 'C' word cause I've seen people have serious panic attacks because someone sneezed in their vicinity. Poor girl had to assure them it was just allergies before they calmed down.**

**20 fucking 20.**

**What a fucking year people. Definitely one for the history books.**

**Let's try our best not to be a statistic - so stay the fuck home, jack off, play some Animal Crossing, and read some fanfics.**

**There'll be a timeskip next chapter, and Book 2 of my original series, _The Nightmares of Alamir_ is finally, finally going to be released this month. _Janus and The Prince_ will be out in the final week of April. Whoop!**

**If you haven't already read Book 1, head on down to my profile for the link to _The Nightmares of Alamir Book 1: Janus and Oblivion_.**

**Even if the whole world burns, I'll still be here pumping out depraved content. Asmodeus knows we need more wish-fulfilling escapist fiction in these times more than ever.**

**Stay safe. Stay at home.**

* * *

Red lights and yellow caution tape. Mutterings of a crowd, standing behind the cautionary lines, phones in the air and flashing with white lights. Already, he could see the sight of a black media van approaching from the distance, as he watched his fellow police officers order the crowd to disperse.

"This is an ongoing investigation, kindly please leave the premises and continue with your day –"

A young schoolboy sat at the side, shaken.

"Morning, True Man." his partner let out a yawn. His right hand slipped into his pocket, a silver lighter emerging from within. Two clicks and a flame emerged, singing one end of a white stick.

"Turn that off Tanuma."

"I'm not going to contaminate the crime scene."

Tanuma let out a puff of smoke into the air. Tsukauchi Naomasa waved his gloved hands, dispersing the stench of nicotine.

"Turn it off."

"I need to take off the edge. Besides –"

Naomasa swiped the cigarette from his partner's hands, stubbing it underfoot. He ignored the idle glare the older man shot him, shooting a minor one of his own. Tanuma sighed, raising his hands in surrender.

"Fine. Fine." The older man snapped on his white rubber gloves. Officer Tamakawa approached them, the cat-headed female saluting immediately. "Detectives."

"What are we dealing with?" Tamuna fired off. "A murder in an alleyway hardly seems like something to call us over."

Officer Tamakawa tried to hide her grimace. "We believe it to be quirk related."

Tamuna rose his brows. Naomasa furrowed his. The older detective gestured, and Officer Tamakawa led them down the alley. There was, as Tamakawa expected, everything that made alleyways unpalatable to the senses. Refuge bins, the occasional discarded beer can and bottle. Snuffed cigarette butts. One or two haphazardly disposed condom.

At the end of the alley, they came to the sight of the corpse. The body. Naomasa almost stopped at the sight that lay before him. He'd seen dead bodies, several of them across his time as a Detective. Several distorted, broken bodies. Some bodies mangled, bashed and grotesque. Whenever quirks became a factor in a murder, there was almost always a guarantee that the sight which awaited them was not going to be pleasant.

"I don't get it." Tamuna was the first to break the silence. "I thought this was a murder?"

"It… is."

"Then why is the guy standing?"

Naomasa had the exact same question. The murder 'victim' if it were possible to classify him as such, remained standing in a pose that was reminiscent to a vampire sleeping in a coffin. His eyes were closed. His face was pale, and Naomasa's eyes could detect puncture wounds in his neck. His clothing consisted of a large oversized hood, pants, and a plain pair of jeans. The hood spotted several puncture marks and bloodied spots – _knife wounds_.

There was no denying the fact that the man in front of them, was, in fact, dead.

"How." Naomasa corrected. "How, is he standing?"

"We… don't know." Officer Tamakawa said, grimacing further. "Some school children found him while attempting to use the alley as a shortcut. They made reports of a strange man doing something suspicious. It wasn't until we got here that we… well… met him."

Tamuna rubbed the back of his head and let out a groan. "Tsukauchi – what are your thoughts?"

Naomasa glanced at the body, from head to toe. "Has anyone tried touching him?"

Officer Tamakawa shook her head. "We weren't sure we should."

Naomasa examined the standing man. The posture was straight. Rigid. No, perfect. The man's back was at a perfect angle, ninety-degrees. His face, despite being closed, possessed an unreal, serene quality to it. Yet, despite that, it was clear that he was deprived significantly of blood in the hours before his death.

With a single hand, a white-gloved finger, Naomasa tapped the forehead of the standing man. The effect was immediate. The man collapsed like a puppet with cut strings, unto the ground. Naomasa released the breath he was unaware he was holding.

"Do we have a positive ID?"

Officer Tamakawa emerged a small jotter from her pocket. "Otoko Yakubutsu, 24 years old. Quirk: Quick Buzz. A quirk that stimulates the effects of narcotics, opioids and hallucinogens, and can be transmitted via physical touch. He has a few priors for public indecency and sexual harassment."

Tsukauchi's eyes immediately went to the man's fingers. His nails. Dried specks of blood were visible beyond the shrunken fingers and elongated digits.

"Prepare the body for autopsy. We need an approximate time of death, cause of death, and tests for bloodwork and foreign DNA."

"Yes sir."

Tamuna walked up beside him, staring down at the body. "Tsukauchi… nothing was holding the body upright."

"So it seems."

"…so the killer killed him, and then made body upright…?" Tamuna's lips squeezed tight. The older man's right hand went up, scratching the back of his neck. "And the body remained standing… for several hours, with nothing holding it up… until something touched it?"

Naomasa said nothing.

"Why would they do that?"

Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi set his eyes on the environment.

"That's what we're here to find out."

* * *

|A Precise Note|

* * *

The warmth was unsettling.

She knew cold and freezing. Biting and gnawing. Fingers numbing. Teeth clattering. Warmth was a false memory. She opened her eyes to abash herself of it. A rotating ceiling fan she did not remember greeted her. An unfamiliar roof. A strange blanket, with a peculiar scent. Emblazoned upon the blue and yellow warmth-giver was an image of a muscled man with blond hair. Even she knew who it was.

She sat, staring at the unfamiliar object. A whiff in the air, and she realized, she too, smelled unfamiliar. There was the scent of soap. Strong, scentless soap. Antiseptic blended within. A running shower echoed quietly.

She tossed aside the warmth giver. Rose to her feet, naturally. She stared once more, at odd, unfamiliar clothes. More of the yellow and blue, more of the blond-haired man. The shirt she wore had the blond-haired man smiling with dazzling teeth on it. The boxers she wore had the blond-haired man, raising his finger in a thumbs up.

The room was an altar to the man of blue and yellow.

She searched her memory of the previous night. They were fuzzy. Unfocused. The harder she tried to remember, the more her head spun.

The sound of the showers stopped. Her gaze darted around the room. _Sharp. Pointy._ A clock on the wall. She leapt for it. The object crashed on the ground, glass shattering into large and small pieces. The largest one, she wielded steady in her right hand.

The doors swung open. Green hair and a toned body. Water dripping down, a towel tied fastidiously on the waist. The memories came rushing.

The boy glanced at her, then at the wall, where the clock should have been. He turned his attention to the ground, where the broken glass fragments lay. His expression morphed, his shoulders sagging as he stared at the broken clock.

"That was an All Might Collector's original…"

"Izuku-kun~"

She remembered. His scent alone reminded her. A most unusual scent.

_I want to taste him~!_

She gripped the jagged glass harder. She brought it to her front, unable to stop the grin from spreading out on her face. Fire rushed through her body, her blood. Desire, poured from her brain to her pumping heart, to the tip of her fingers. Electricity, lightning, rushed through her body. It fired from nerve to nerve, neuron to neuron, synapse to synapse.

_I want to cut him~!_

"I-Zu-Ku~" she tested the name.

The boy scratched the back of his head, muttering soft words underneath his breath, before he gestured for his neck. "Try it if you can."

Her eyes darted between his exposed neck, and the boy's eyes. The boy tapped his right ear with his left index finger. "I can hear your heartbeat."

She could hear it as well. The rhythm, increasing, faster, beating at a tempo she was certain she'd never heard before. Never reached before. Her eyes landed on Izuku's form a second time. She drank in his form, fully, this time. His body, lacking in scars was something she didn't truly like. His muscles, however toned, did not interest her. His physical form, however impressive, did not move her. There was only one thing that did.

_I want to cut him~!_

"I want to cut you up, Izuku-kun." She rose the makeshift weapon. "I'm going to cut you up. And cut, and cut and cut and cut and cut –"

She rushed him, squealing underneath her breath with glee. She rose the makeshift blade, laughing as she swung it down.

She was on the ground. She didn't know how she got to the ground. Or how he pinned her to it, and knocked the weapon out of her hand. She didn't understand, how she found herself underneath him, his sharp eyes locking down on her. She shivered from the intensity in his gaze.

_Cut – cut – cut –_

"I'm sorry about this."

Something pricked her in the back of her neck.

She suddenly felt very, very, sleepy.

* * *

XXXXX

* * *

The broken fragments of glass landed in his bin with uncomfortable clinking sounds. He kept aside the broom, turned around, and regarded the unconscious young girl with a small-and-green black needle, nearly invisible, at the nape of her neck.

He wound his arm twice, stretching his hand out before inhaling and exhaling. Three steps, and he reached for his bag, withdrawing from within it the books: _Advanced Anatomy_ and _Acupuncture of Acute Pains_. The two books he kept aside, digging further within the bag for a smaller satchel.

The contents of the smaller satchel, he removed and arranged unto the floor. Corked translucent vials of red liquid arranged themselves at a vertical axis. Faded paper labels with **TRG-42** attached to each vial.

"Alright Izuku, you can do it."

The images began to appear before him. Snippets of his own personal hallucination, arranging and storing data from the memories and information he had acquired.

_Trigger. Quirk Enhancing drug. Amplifies quirk factor by an estimated two to six times, thereby amplifying quirk ability. Variations and strains indicate weakness or strongness of the drug. Side-effects of Trigger use include heightened aggression, irritability, and increased propensity for violence._

He closed his eyes. "What am I to do?"

_Isolate the quirk-boosting effects of trigger from the aggression-inducing effects. Create a version of Trigger that works without the disagreeable side-effects._

He rubbed the side of his head. "Problems."

_Modern methods have attempted and failed to distill a pure sample of Trigger. Speculations include that Trigger is made uniquely via the use of a quirk, and cannot be replicated through artificial or mechanical means._

_Trigger is a drug designed specifically for humans with quirks, and thus, all form of experimentation will require human test subjects._

His gaze flickered over to the unconscious girl with his needle in the back of her neck. _A murderer. She murdered someone._ His mind argued. _But… it was out of her control. If her quirk was the one that caused her to become like this –_

He idly slapped his cheeks. _Focus, Midoriya! Focus! It's exactly this type of thing you want to stop! This type of thing you want to prevent from happening!_

People becoming criminals because their Quirks led them down the path of villainy. People murdering others because their quirks compelled them to do so. The cycle would continue until it ended. Until _he_ put an end to it. He wanted to help her – and he _would_, he _would_ help her.

But first… she would have to help him.

_She's a person! You can't experiment on people!_

_She's a murderer! She killed someone in cold blood! This is the least you can do!_

_But it's not her fault! Her quirk –_

_We know! That's why, we need to do this, because we're doing it for her as well –_

_Are we?_

_Are we really doing this… for other people? _

Midoriya pressed his lips tightly together. He took a deep, long, quiet breath, inhaling until he felt his lungs too full with oxygen. At the end of the day, he'd covered up a murder. He'd moved the body from the original location at Hirohito Street to another location entirely. He even made a show of making the body stand in order to throw off suspicion. With any luck, the police would be too preoccupied thinking that the body standing was meant to be some sort of message or symbol than they would be realizing that it was merely a needless distraction.

His right hand came up, and he flicked himself in the middle of his forehead.

**Reduce Cortisol levels. **

**Increase Serotonin levels.**

Cortisol was the hormone responsible for his stress. His anxiety over the decision. Serotonin was the happiness hormone. The one he needed to make his decision.

_Relax._

Midoriya Izuku took a long, silent breath.

_What am I so worried about?_

He laughed, his laughter echoing quietly in the room with cheer. _Why was I agonizing over this?_ Midoriya hummed a jaunty tune. He hopped to his feet, stretching his arms and legs and taking an excellent breath of fresh air. He reached into his cupboard, checking his wristwatch for the time.

**5:43 AM.**

He moved over to the unconscious girl, picking her up and tossing her unto the bed. His eyes glanced over her unconscious form, a smile appearing over his face. _She's pretty._ When she was asleep, she was very pretty. _Not as pretty as Saiko._ He glanced over her body, fully etching her form to memory.

He did not know what the girl's quirk was. He knew it had something to do with blood, but not much else. Testing Trigger on her would first require him to know exactly what her quirk did.

Midoriya summoned his personal hallucinations. A white board visible to him and only him appeared at the side, words appearing upon it with an equally imaginary black marker: **Define purpose.** **Construct hypothesis.** **Test the hypothesis and collect data.** **Analyze data.** **Draw conclusions.**

The first question he had was _how _Trigger boosted the innate Quirk Factors of different individuals. The quirk factor was, a gene. If Trigger boosted the expression of the quirk gene itself beyond the regular capacity to which the individual could attain, did it not mean that the drug was capable of altering the genetic code of a person?

More than that, the human genetic code was far more complicated ever since the rise of quirks, as some individuals had completely different DNA structures from others, so much so that the classification of what it meant to have human DNA was in shambles. So how then, did this one drug, account for all the possible variations and then simply _activate_ or _bolster_ the quirk gene of different individuals when each individual's quirk gene varies so wildly from one another?

Midoriya Izuku felt the steam pouring out of his ears when his head snapped up. His eyes widened, slowly, and his breath hitched.

"Did… she know?"

She knew. She had to have known. Saiko knew from the beginning. This was anything _but_ an easy task. Simply _understanding_ how Trigger did what it did would require extensive knowledge in quirk genomics, epigenetics, epidemiology, neuroscience and pharmacogenomics.

A lot of big sounding words and advanced concepts that a Middle Schooler like him would be hard pressed to master quickly.

"Months… years?"

For a normal person, decades of study would be required. Years of sweat, toil and hardship needed to master the concepts. Years needed to access the academic knowledge and gather the understanding needed to begin to know where to even _start_ looking for a solution.

She'd essentially tasked a first-year chemistry student with reverse-engineering methamphetamine using a crude sample and simultaneously remove the addictive element from it. Asking a high school biology student to perform a decompressive craniectomy after his first class.

Midoriya could feel his heart pounding faster and faster in his chest. His gaze landed upon the drugs, and then upon the sleeping murderer. The thumping of blood in his heart began to beat faster, and faster, and a sound unlike anything he'd heard followed from his lips.

_Am I… laughing?_

He clamped his hands over his mouth to stop the strange, unusual laugh. The effort was futile. Useless. His laughter continued, spurred on by adrenaline pumping into his system.

_She's doesn't believe I can do it._

Saiko was testing him. Telling him, in the most indirect way she could: _this is out of the realm of your ability._

His hands balled into a fist, and Izuku's entire body shuddered with a strange sensation he'd never felt before. A sensation he could not remember when last he'd felt before. He gnashed his teeth together to stop the sound that almost escaped his lips, to stop the fast beating in his chest and overwhelming flood of…

_Dopamine? Adrenaline?_

Izuku shuddered as he understood.

_Excitement._

For the first time since getting his Precision quirk, he was being _challenged_. He had a challenge present before him. The dopamine that flooded his system was enough to leave him biting down on his hand to stop himself from laughing. Enough to squeeze his eyes shut to fully bathe in the wave upon wave of ineffable bliss.

Izuku Midoriya sat on the floor, crossing his legs as he closed his eyes. His imagination worked. The girl was before him, Saiko, her monocle shattering as she regarded him with admiration and respect. With envy and disbelief. The imaginary Saiko bowed, conceding her head to him her loss. She would concede, to him, ultimately, that she underestimated him. Renege on her words, and offer her hand fully in partnership, and he –

_You won't need her anymore._

The thought broke him from his imaginary world. His eyes sparked open, as he stared, oddly, into the air.

"…what?"

There was no one in the room but him and the unconscious girl. The thought had come from him. The thought had been his. He furrowed his brow, squeezing his eyes tight as he searched for the source of that thought. The origin of that stray, unusual thought.

_You can make double her entire net worth in half a year. Triple, if you pushed yourself. _

He shook his head. That couldn't be right –

"_Of course it's right."_

Another Midoriya sat across from him. A psychosomatic hallucination, born from within him. To him, the hallucination both felt, spelt, and looked real. The second Midoriya had a blank, expressionless face.

"_Saiko is smart, yes, but by her own admission, she does not understand people. She has her own goals to accomplish, but that weakness is going to end up stifling her. She does not understand illogical actions. She does not understand, that a lack of good faith can have longer repercussions down the line."_

Midoriya tilted his head. "Um… who are –"

"_I'm just an audiovisual representation of your thoughts without the bullshit. The side of you that's inspired by Kacchan's frank bluntness, but never manages to embrace it._"

"Oh." Midoriya said. "That's nice."

"_Are you a perfect human?_"

Izuku frowned. "What?"

"_We both know you heard me. But since redundancy is in session, I'll ask again, are you, Midoriya Izuku, a perfect person? A paragon of human virtues and righteousness?_"

"I… strive to be?"

His doppelganger nodded. "_So it stands to reason, if you are not yet perfect, you are also capable of falling into the pitfalls of non-perfect beings. It stands to reason, that you are equally capable of greed, pettiness, selfishness, and anger?"_

He couldn't deny the logic.

"So…" he scratched his head. "After I complete Saiko's task, I'll refuse her help… out of pettiness?"

"_You want her to realize that she missed a huge opportunity. You want her to realize that her lack of faith in you was mistake. You want her to learn that lesson, and strive to do anything to correct her error. Anything."_

"I'm not – I'm not a petty person. Why would I ever want any of that?"

"_Because you want her to want you."_

His copy's eyes shone.

"_The same way you want her._"

Midoriya said nothing.

"_You don't believe me?_" The doppelganger rose his hands, images of Kacchan appearing on screens beside him. "_You get satisfaction out of beating Kacchan. Only a year back, you could never dream of it. But now? Now he can't even touch you even if he tries his hardest. You've never focused on it, but at the back of your mind, it's always there, that brief flash of satisfaction, of knowing how much you've changed from being Deku. Knowing how much better than him you are now."_

"That's not tr –"

"_You've never let him win."_ His clone said. "_Don't lie. You know you can let him win and make it appear as if he won on his own merit. Precision allows us that. If we truly wanted to, we could fake it so convincingly that Kacchan would never have known that we let him win on purpose. You considered it, once, but disregarded it – because the truth is, Midoriya Izuku, has spent his entire life chasing after and attempting to be like a boy who never wants to lose."_

The clone's hair morphed until it was blonde.

"_Did you think that once you finally caught up to him, you would ever let him regain his place?"_

"…I don't like to lose."

"_You've phrased it wrong."_ He corrected._ "You, Midoriya, like to win."_

He sighed, groaning as he rubbed his hands down his face.

"Talking to myself like this can't be healthy…"

His doppelganger's hair returned back to its regular green luster.

"_Should have thought about that before using Precision to enhance your brain._" His doppelganger pointed slowly to his skull. "_You have a lot of hang-ups in here you need to deal with. For starters, you've been doing suffering from an overwhelming lack of self-conceptualization."_

"Is that bad?"

"_You don't understand yourself, fully. You don't know what you want, or why you want it._"

He sat up straight. "I want to make the world a better place."

"_Why?_"

"Because it's the right thing to –"

"_Bzzzt._" His clone called. "_Wrong answer. Try again._"

He frowned. "Because I don't like seeing people suffer because of their qui –"

"_Bzzzt. Wrong again. One more attempt._" His copy rose a finger. "_Here's a hint. You've spent your entire life being told by everyone in the world that you weren't needed. That you were useless. Your own mother felt so bad about your lack of a quirk that every time she looked at you, she fought down the urge to start weeping. Your entire life was spent in stubborn pursuit of a dream you were never sure you could attain, and your only friend was a bully who often told you to go kill yourself. So, what is the most likely reason, this previously sad, lonely, bullied, socially-stunted boy would decide to make the world a better place?"_

"I…" Izuku tested his words.

Memories of his past began to play all around him. The videos, of Kacchan kicking him and putting him down when he was littler. He cringed at them, turning aside to more videos, of his mother's sad smile, of the teacher's ignoring his hands waved in class, of a class of students, laughing as he declared his dream to the world.

_I wanna be a hero!_

He gritted his teeth, as the videos grew further louder and louder – the memories of his past failures, coming to him. Of him drinking scalding tea to test if he had a fire-breathing quirk. Of straining his right arm as he stood still for several hours, just to see if he could make objects float to him. Of the many, many, many failures that came –

And then the memory of the day he activated his quirk. The knife in his hand. The determination it took. The anger. The frustration. The roar he let out.

He remembered the lack of will he had to go through with it. Remembered, as he slipped on his way to return the object to the kitchen. Remembered those brief few seconds, where the knife soared in the air, and descended, edge first, directly at the middle of his forehead.

Then he remembered, two fingers, moving on pure instinct, catching it a millimeter from impact.

"…I hate it."

His clone was silent.

"_You hate…?_"

"…Quirks."

If there were no Quirks from the get-go he would have had a different childhood. There would be no villains, no heroes. He would not have idolized All Might so much, so much that the thought of never being able to be like his idol would not have driven him to despair. Wouldn't have driven his mother to such sadness. Wouldn't have driven a wedge between him and Kacchan. Wouldn't have caused him to go to such great lengths, all just to prove himself worthy of admiration, love and affection.

His gaze turned to the girl on the bed. If there were no quirks, perhaps she would have had a different life as well? Would she be happy, living with her family, instead of here, unconscious on a stranger's bed? Would she ever have murdered someone in cold blood and licked her lips as their blood dripped down her chin?

Someone like Matsuda would be able to live a life where he didn't have to worry about one day sexually harassing someone, all because of his quirk.

Someone like Suzume wouldn't have to feel the discomfort of other people's emotions just by being next to them.

"I really… wish… quirks didn't exist. Then maybe… maybe…"

…_everyone could be much happier._

His hallucination smiled. It was odd, seeing the smile coming from a mirror image of himself. Odder still, seeing himself in full three-dimensions, and seeing himself stand, wiping off equally hallucinatory dust.

"_I'll ask again, Izuku… what do you want?_"

What did he want?

"I want to end the era of Quirks."

His hallucination chuckled. "_There we go._" The mirage faded. "_Let's get to work, Izuku."_

* * *

XXXXXX

* * *

The morning did not go as she pleased. Her coffee had been several degrees colder than she requested it. One of the maids had slipped from the staircase and needed medical attention. Her chauffeur possessed unresolved feelings for the maid, and had been too distracted to drive her efficiently.

She arrived late. Professor Harikawa used to opportunity to land a verbal slight. Her classmates reveled, quietly in the man's remarks. Their layers of self-doubt and jealousy manifested more unpleasantly in their inaudible gratification.

Fifteen years old and completing a Doctorate was enough to shatter the fragile egos of a lot of so-called high-minded individuals. She was female, as well, another strike against her record. A lot of Professors tied their intelligence to their ego. Tied their accomplishments to their self-worth. And she appeared, existed before them, a mockery of their decades of study and dedication. A reminder that their intellect was narrow, hyper-focused, and thin.

"Do you understand why you are here, Intelli-san?" Professor Miyazaki's hands were steepled. Her essay lay underneath. "Do you know, why I've called you to my office?"

Professor Miyazaki was one of her favorites. Perhaps only because he did not view things the way the rest of them did. His ego was tied to something else. Her eyes landed on his desk, the picture of the man in a Hawaiian shirt and straw-hat, his arms around a younger woman in a sundress, and a smaller, younger girl in-between them.

Young enough to be his daughter, and the child, younger still to be his grandchild. She knew it was not the case. The matching rings on his finger and hers explained the relationship.

"I assume it has something to do with my essay."

"It has everything to do with your essay." Raising the papers, he patted it with the back of his palm. "What is the meaning of this Intelli-san?"

Her lips, quirked. Her eyes, stared, idly at the papers. Red ink dotted them. Circles upon circles. "You'll have to be more specific, Professor."

Professor Miyazaki placed the papers back on the table. "The assignment was to debate the ethicality of Quirk Marriages and highlight the potential long-term consequences on society."

"I know what the assignment was, Professor."

"Then why," Professor Miyazaki's voice rose. "Why have you submitted a thesis arguing in favor of Quirk Eugenics?"

She felt her lips thin at the professor's tone. "I would kindly you refrain from increasing your voice around me Professor Miyazaki."

Professor Miyazaki didn't take heed to her warning. "Explain yourself Intelli-san."

_Explain yourself._ How dreadfully tired she was of those commands. Those instructions.

_Explain this. _

_I don't understand this. _

_Can you tell me how this works? _

_How did you figure this out?_

Her entire life was an agonizing task of rendering explanation upon explanation. She grew weary of it. Exhausted with it. Always tasked with explaining the simple. With breaking down concepts at which she understood at a glance, chewing it, swallowing and regurgitating it as digestible material for others like a bird feeding young, helpless hatchlings.

"'Eugenics are a set of beliefs and practices that aim to improve the genetic quality of a human population, typically be excluding people and groups judged to be inferior, and promoting those judged to be superior.'" She quoted.

"I know what Eugenics are, Intelli-san."

Her lips twitched. "Then," she began. "You should understand that Quirk Marriages are in line with that belief. Two individuals marry with the intention of producing offspring born with a mix of their favorable traits, or in this case, Quirk. This increases the genetic quality of that offspring, who can then, engage in another Quirk Marriage, and further amplify their genetic quality _further_ –"

The Professor waved his hand dismissively. "And?"

"And if you'd read my essay with a more objective mind rather than utterly dismissing it because of a single buzzword, Professor," she said, "You would have seen where I advocated for the promotion of positive eugenic policies. A society of individuals with highly complementary quirks being 'incentivized' to reproduce. Individuals with unique genetic compositions and immunities being bred with others of equally advantageous genes –"

"_Bred?_" Professor Miyazaki exclaimed. "Bred, Intelli? For god's sakes –"

Getting worked up over _semantics_. She clicked her tongue.

"What are Quirk Marriages if not selective breeding?" She presented. "For countless generations, humans have used artificial selection to develop new organisms with desirable characteristics for our benefit. We've bred chickens to produce larger eggs, cows to produce more milk, plants to be softer, more digestible with greater yields, and even dogs – we've bred dogs for no reason except to remove or preserve physical characteristics or mental behaviors that work to _our_ benefit."

She huffed, calming herself. "It's both pointless and hypocritical to suddenly cry foul when I propose to do the same thing to ourselves what we have done to countless other species for thousands of years."

Professor Miyazaki rubbed the sides of his head. "We aren't animals, Intelli-san."

_Wrong._

"Professor, we are the _smartest_ animals." She corrected. "Set aside anthropocentric ego and consider the benefits, Professor. There are individuals whose genetic physiology has been so heavily modified by their quirks that certain human illnesses no longer affect them. Individuals immune to fevers and colds, immune to poisons, toxins or venoms, immune to fatal diseases and viruses. If we bred these individuals so all of mankind and humanity could share in those advantages –"

"And the rest of us, Intelli-san?" Professor Miyazaki interrupted. "The quirkless, those whose quirks make them more susceptible to injuries or disease, and those whose quirks would bring about more disadvantages than benefits. What happens to them?"

His gaze, ever so quickly, flickered to the picture on the desk.

"They are free to live their lives." She said, adjusting her monocle. "I'm simply saying they should not be allowed to reproduce."

Professor Miyazaki shook his head. "So, you would implement policies of forced sterilization?"

"Yes." She concurred. "Unfavorable traits should not be allowed to advance. A quirk that makes one more susceptible to disease, or makes one frail and sickly with no quantifiable advantages? Why should we let such quirks continue to exist?"

"The human right to reproduction." Professor Miyazaki said.

She laughed, against her better nature. The Professor's stunned look caused her to laugh a bit more, before she restrained herself. "Forgive me, Professor, but you and I are more than aware that human rights are more or less guidelines than an absolute law. Here in Japan, the government establishes laws or ignores actions that counteract multiple human rights on a daily basis."

She rose one finger. "Right to fair trial and presumption of innocence: constantly counteracted by the Professional Hero Association. Several individual villains suspected of belonging to the Followers of One have been sent to Tartarus without a trial, because the government tries its hardest to suppress anything about them."

She rose another finger. "Right to freedom of thought, conscience and religion: constantly disregarded by the government. Churches of One have been closed down, attacked, and members arrested simply for believing that there is a messianic figure who has the power to give and take away quirks."

She rose a third finger. "Right to freedom of opinion and expression: constantly ignored. Destro was persecuted for his ideals of a society where the government does not police our quirks. It is nearly impossible to get a permit to use your Quirk for personal commercial profit or for larger entertainment purposes. Street performers have been arrested simply for using their Quirks in controlled manners in public spaces."

She rose the fourth finger. "Right to work in just and favorable conditions: dismissed because several employers hire based on quirks. The wage gap that shows that individuals with more versatile or specialized quirks earn six times more on average than individuals with weaker quirks, and ten times more than quirkless individuals."

The final finger. "Right to freedom from discrimination: dismissed, in various ways. The Quirk Purism movement has been on the rise, advocating that those born with animalistic features and traits are _less human_ than those who do not have any visible animalistic physical characteristics."

She closed her fist. "Let us also not forget the discrimination against quirkless individuals. Mito versus Arashi – th case of a quirkless woman who lost her job to a man because he had a quirk that let him do the same work three times as fast. As you know, she lost the case, and was later counter-sued for everything she had."

Saiko took a deep breath, idly brushing away strands of her hair. "Professor, if you cannot see that the system we currently live in is already an unorganized mess barely hanging on by a thin thread, then there is nothing else I have to say."

Standing from the seat and smoothening her skirt, she swung her handbag over her right shoulder, giving the Professor a faint nod.

"I do, truly, enjoy our discussions Professor Miyazaki." She said. "Unfortunately, you're too deeply entrenched in your love of humanity that you are blinded by your belief in it. We are not living in a just world, professor. This world has always been unjust, and I am suggesting, that rather than attempt the impossible to make it just, we simply optimize the unjustness."

"Optimize… the unjustness." Professor Miyazaki repeated.

She curtsied, as a lady should.

"Good day, Professor."

She glanced, one last time at the picture on the Professor's table.

_Perhaps it's not a love of humanity… but a love of select humans._

Intelli Saiko left the office, letting out a breath. Professor Miyazaki was a man who meant well, as far as being an Ethics Professor went, but, unfortunately, the man was biased in his own little ways. She understood of course, in some ways, she could understand. In others, she could not.

She admired him for it.

She was exasperated with him for it.

There was, of course a young boy she had encountered recently, whom she had assumed possessed the same unyielding moral code. A part of her wondered if Midoriya would be interested in meeting her professor. Despite the gap in education level, she possessed a strong conviction that they would find something in common to talk about.

Her phone, twice, beeped in her bag. She reached for it, her lips thinning as she saw the words: **UNKNOWN CALLER.**

"Yes?"

"_How is the most annoying young heiress in the world doing?"_

The voice was feminine. Young. She placed the tone, phrasing, and word choice. "…Broker."

"_My you're quick on the uptake. That's a little scary Intelli-sama. Not even my own girlfriend could recognize me so quickly._"

She rubbed her nose. "I've been expecting your call."

"_Have you now, Intelli-sama? Then I suppose you are aware that you and I have a score to settle._"

Her lip twitched. "Do we?"

"_Those fools at the Meta Liberation Army wouldn't be able to deduce my location even if they had the bloody Oracle of Delphi in their possession. Well, maybe Curious could do it – I've always hated the nosy types like her. But as they don't have any person with Sir Nighteye powers, the only other way they'd know is if they went to their resident human quantum-computer."_

Her lips twitched further. "Fascinating theory. Is this the so-called genius intuition of the Underworld's Greatest Broker?"

"_Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't. Regardless, ojou-sama, you've managed to actually piss me off. That's a mighty impressive thing to do, I admit."_

She adjusted her monocle. "And I take it you want financial compensation?"

"_This isn't about the money. It's about reputation. I mean, now you've got me running around in a girl's body to avoid Re-Destro's goons. It worked well enough until so many annoying fuckers started walking up to me with bullshit pick-up lines. Do you know how stressful it is to be a young beautiful woman?"_

"I can only imagine what that must feel like."

"_It's annoyingly stressful. The lesbian sex isn't all that either. Though the multiple orgasms are definitely worth it. Ah, I know, ojou-sama, how about we meet at a certain Love Hotel. Just two girls having fun together?"_

"You do realize I'm underage?"

"_You do realize I'm a criminal?"_

"I'll be cutting this call if you don't tell me what you _really_ want, Broker."

"_Tsk. Tsk. Testy. Is it that time of the month already?"_

"Was that the most original insult you could think of? Considering you are, as you claim, also in a girl's body?"

"_Point. Alright ojou-sama. I'll come clean. You're a smart lass. There's no way you would have helped Re-Destro track me down without knowing it was going to come back and bite you in the ass. So that meant you did it to get my attention. I get that the Intelli Corporation and the Detnerat Company have a partnership, but you're not a villain. So, why does little miss smarty pants need my attention so desperately?"_

She pressed her lips together. "Because, you know he's real. You have information on him."

"_Information on who? God? Sorry, princess –"_

"The One."

Broker went silent.

"_You're joking._" Came the voice. "_You – ojou-sama, you have no fucking idea what you're dealing with._"

"I know –"

"_YOU DON'T FUCKING KNOW!"_ came the voice. She had to remove the phone from her ear in response to the volume.

"_Listen, and listen good Ojou-sama. No matter how smart you think you are, all that is fucking pointless when you meet him. He's been in this game since before you were born, since before I was born. If you expect me to give you information on the fucking King of the Underworld – you're batshit crazy."_

"His name."

"_Did you just fucking hear me?_"

"His name." She repeated. "And then, I'll owe you two favors. One, for setting Re-Destro on you, and the other, for getting me his name."

The Broker was silent for several seconds. "_Two favors, huh? Two favors from the heiress of the Intelli fortune. You think that's worth more than my life?_"

"I believe it might be worth the consideration. Things are going to change in the oncoming months, and I believe yourself to be of the gambling sort. Money may not interest you, but information, secrets, and perhaps, _quirks_ may."

"_Quirks?_" There was silence. "_Ah. So… that's what this is about. I thought the government scrapped that operation –"_

She said nothing. It was a risk, giving him so much information. A weighted gamble. The seconds, ticked, idly by. Each one almost more agonizing than the last. She needed _his name_. Years of search and study and she'd never come close to finding the slightest hints of it. All her intellect poured into the task, chasing and wispy trails and dead-end after dead-end. Rumors and myth had their limits, but a name, a name would be all she needed to find him.

Broker laughed on the phone. "_Alright, ojou-sama. You drive a hard bargain. But I'll tell you now that I don't know his name. No one is old enough to remember his real name."_

Her lips furrowed. "That can't be –"

"_I didn't finish._" Came Broker's voice. "_What I do know, is what he goes by. What he's called in his inner circle. It's a name that very little have heard and still remain alive."_

She felt her heart beat rise, faster and faster. "Yes?"

"**All. For. One.**"

Chills ran down her spine. She felt as if something in her brain had _clicked._ Unlocked. Like a hazy fog which was present and downcast on it abruptly cleared. She clenched her teeth, almost stumbling as she held the side of her head, an overwhelming dizziness hitting her.

_W-what?_

**All. For. One.**

The second time she thought of the name, a sharp pain struck her head, She staggered as if she'd been struck from behind by a heavy object. Her throat went dry immediately. Her lungs refused to draw in air.

"_Hey… hey? You still alive ojou-sama?_"

She barely made out the words, the voice. She clenched the phone hard, forcing herself to rasp in a shaky breath.

"What… what was that?"

"_Hahahaha!_" the Broker laughed. An annoying, grating, obnoxious laughed. _"You're among a select group of people who know that name and still live. Congratulations ojou-sama."_

"_What. Was. That_?" she repeated, harshly, forcing her voice to rise.

"_You know what it was. You just can't accept it. Some people's quirks let them spit fireballs or amplify their intelligence. Others let them instantly kill people a thousand miles away when they utter three words and have a specific idea in mind._"

Her chest turned to ice. "That's… that's preposterous."

"_For you and for me, maybe. But for someone who has been collecting and combing quirks for more than seven generations?"_ Broker chuckled._ "That's just Tuesday."_

Her heart tightened as though it were about to burst.

"_Considering you're still alive, it means you don't think of him as an enemy. That's good for me. I don't know what possessed you to go this far, but you're already balls-deep in this. Too late to turn back now."_

Suffocating. The air was suffocating.

"_Two favors, ojou-sama. I'll be calling to collect them. Try not to die before I do._"

The call ended with a click.

* * *

XXXX

* * *

**Elsewhere…**

He loathed it.

The handling of such minor tasks and matters which should be handled by individuals in his organization of a lower caliber. His skin itched as he scratched his neck, his gloved hands raking against the breakout of hives in irritation.

"I hate this place."

"Why is that, onii-chan?"

He took a breath through his mask. The sight of the men in blue were an annoyance. _The healthy kowtowing to the diseased_. The worst of them, the fools had given up both authority and autonomy to allow the diseased to their job for them. Their competence and ability to do their jobs plummeting out of a misguided sense of efficacy and modernization.

The very building itself stood as a mockery. Their jobs were not to apprehend criminals and uphold the law, it was now to collect already apprehended criminals and uphold the interests of the government.

"Ne, ne, onii-chan! Onii-chan! Stop ignoring me!"

The girl walking beside him pouted, her cheeks puffing up fully. He would deny that amusement entered his eyes. The dress she wore was of her own taste. A miniaturized yukata and elegant geta sandals. Despite the legacy skipping a generation with her ingrate of her mother and incompetent of her father, she inherited the grace and predilections of a lady that came from the bloodline of a true Yakuza member.

"We have work to do."

She pouted again, crossing her arms. "You're gonna buy me ice-cream for ignoring me onii-chan."

"Chocolate or vanilla?"

"Chocolate!" She chirped.

He acquiesced, nodding his head. "I'll buy you an entire ice cream shop. Will that be enough?"

"Will I get to boss them around like jiji and make them feed me ice-cream?"

"If that's what you want."

"Yay!" she pumped her fist into the air. "You're the best niichan!"

"Work first," he said. "Then pleasure."

He walked with his hands in his pockets, approaching from the front door. Several of the men in blue spotted him immediately, their hands latching unto their belts in reflex. He snorted, paying them no heed as he continued his casual approach.

"H-halt! You – you there – you look suspicious."

It was the mask. He knew it. Yet, he would not disregard it. He would not let himself breathe in the same air as filth. He would not let their infection spread even further. He withdrew his hands from his pockets, raising them into the air.

"I'm no one suspicious." He said, casually. "I wanted to ask if you've seen my Eight-Legged friend. He likes to pretend to be a spider, but his heart is dark and inky, so we often say he's an octopus."

Both men flinched. Chisaki almost snorted. Perhaps, it was his fault. Irinaka had told him time and again that he should make more appearances in order for people to know what he looked like. He'd disregarded it. His flesh was but a tool. His appearance, irrelevant. He could, and had, molded and changed it however he desired. Of what purpose was there for them to commit to memory a visage which was temporary?

The policemen bowed their head immediately. "Oyabun… we – we weren't expecting you." Their eyes glanced to the girl beside him. "Nor where we expecting the priestess herself –"

The girl swirled with pride. He refused his eyes twitching with annoyance. Her insistence on traditional clothing and often times Miko-styled outfits had caused this. One besotted fool had addressed her as such once, and she refused to be addressed by anything else following that.

"One of the Outer Bullets was killed." He said. "I'm here for the body."

The policeman on the right grimaced. "We heard about an unusual murder case."

The one on the left nodded. "I thought it was just a simple drug dealer. We didn't know he was –" the man cleared his throat. "Right this way, oyabun."

An entrance through the parking-lot was used to draw less attention. The men walked at an unsteady gait occasionally glancing back at him, but never making eye contact. He spied several cameras within the vicinity, slowly picking up and tracing their movements. He scratched his neck further, irritation slowly bubbling within him.

"…niichan."

She dragged the hem of his jacket. Her gaze was serious.

"I figured."

The two men were not subtle at all in their attempts. Nor were the others, hiding behind pillars, beside cars, with their bullet-proof vests and slow, unsteady breathing. His irritation grew further, because he was certain he had not made it clear to anyone that he was going to arrive at this police station today, at this aforementioned time, with this aforementioned purpose.

That meant, he was dealing with a B-Rank, QETA 3 or higher enemy. A Precog or Sherlock were the two top-most possibilities. For a moment, he considered the Demon, Nezumi was behind it but quickly disregarded the thought. The Demon was in his castle, and getting him to aid law-enforcement was a task he did not do often.

Nezumi was perhaps the greatest Sherlock in the country. Sir Nighteye may be the best Precog. Both of them were smart enough to know that he could never be detained by ordinary police officers, or the few low-tier _diseased_ his senses could pick-up in the area.

So then, a third party. A new player, perhaps, allying with the police?

The police officers broke into a sprint, running for cover, just as a dark blur rushed onto the scene.

"Uwah!" the girl beside him cheered. "Bunny! Look! Look! Nii-chan, it's a bunny!"

"Whoo! Made it just in time!" the _bunny_ spoke. Dark skinned, ferocious grin, with rabbit-ears sticking out of the top of her head.

He revaluated his assessment of the situation. _Most likely a Sherlock. _That was how they knew he was coming. It was a hunch. A guess. They anticipated someone, but not him. For had they anticipated him, they would have known better than to send a melee combatant. Said melee combatant would have known better than to arrive at the last moment.

He'd seen enough.

He removed the glove from his left hand, gesturing it to the girl. "Eri. Your hand."

"Right niichan!"

The rabbit girl growled. "Hey, what do you think you're –"

In the younger days of training his quirk, he'd needed to fully disassemble and reassemble the individual atoms of a person into himself and in order for him to use their quirk. Decades of practice and experience brought him to the point where it was only necessary to make physical contact, and ensure that their individual atoms _truly_ touched, making it so that, they were, in a sense, one individual.

The King was said to be able to take away and give quirks at a single touch.

Chisaki Kai didn't need to take or give.

He just needed to use.

"**Revise.**"

And use he did.

The heroes, vanished. The policemen vanished. Day returned to night. The hands on his watch spun backwards, spinning until it came to sudden, final stop.

A van screeched harshly to a stop, mere millimeters away from impact. The driver from within stared at him with wide eyes.

"Wha – what the hell?"

"Where did they come from?"

His eyes latched on to the van. With his power, he deactivated the atomic bonds making himself and Eri one organism, lightly holding the girl as she lost her balance.

"Mhhmm… Onichan… I'm… sleepy."

As expected. She was still young. Still growing. Making use of her power took a lot of energy from her. The power to remove the diseased from this world was a precious gift, and thus, to him, Eri was more precious than gold. More valuable than diamond. Nothing in the world compared to how precious the girl was. He softened the ground for her, setting her against it quietly.

"Ice cream… you… promise… nichan."

He'd have her reward waiting for her once he was done. His attention, he turned, back onto the policemen in the van. One of them approached, baton in hand. "Sir, I don't know how you and your child got in here, but –"

A single grasp was all it took. The man was too slow to resist. His hand covered the man's head, and Chisaki closed his eyes as he focused. Brain matter was still matter. And he could manipulate matter as he wished. Finesse was needed for this task, as it had cost Chisaki a thousand lives… perhaps ten thousand lives, to master this art.

"**Overhaul.**"

To overhaul the brain of a human being, was to disassemble and then reassemble it instantaneously, but with significant differences. Creating new connections where none had existed previously, implanting neurons that would fire upon the utterance of certain codes, and refining it until it was but another pill in his hand to use against the diseased.

He let go of the man, and the man slumped down, blinking. "Ah… Overhaul-sama, what can I do for you?"

"A dead body ushered in today. Bring it to me."

"As you command, Overhaul-sama."

"There should be vials of Trigger accompanying him as evidence. Bring those as well."

The new peon rushed to perform his duty, leaving Chisaki to his thoughts. Otoko Yakubutsu had been one of his Outer Bullets. He was not lacking in skill by any means and his role as a mere drug-dealer was simply a cover, intended to perform the true task of distributing and field-testing a special batch of Trigger.

**TRG-42** was an experimental batch with fourteen times the potency of regular Trigger, and six times the likelihood for addiction. The drug was intended to cause irreversible changes in one's mental state. Otoko was the perfect facilitator due to his quirk.

Chisaki cared little for the batch, in one way or another. It was a side-distraction, meant to be an experiment, to test the likelihood of the Quirk Burnout Theory. Having it waste away in a police evidence locker would not bother him too much.

He did, however, desire to know who had killed the distributor. Otoko was a lecherous individual, prone to his own vices, but he was by no means incapable in combat. His quirk when properly utilized, could make him an extremely deadly opponent to face.

Had his death been a consequence of bad luck, or had it been predetermined? Was there someone out there, making their first move against him?

Whatever the case was, Chisaki Kai would find out. He would find who was responsible and he would eliminate them.

For he was the cure to the disease that ails all –

And the world, was so very, very sick.


	8. Opposition

**Fucking Christ! I swear to Asmodeus this took me waaaayyy longer than it really, really should have. Everything's been going to utter shit since C-19 hit the world. Delay after delay after fucking delay -**

**But! No more delays!**

**We're BACK BABY! WHOOO!**

**Finally, _Finally_, Book 2 of _The Nightmares of Alamir_ is out on Amazon after nearly two weeks of COVID related delays. "Janus and The Prince" is here and ready and you can find the link on my profile! YES! Any support you can give to the book would be very, tremendously much appreciated.**

**Thank you for your patience and support through these past several months, I wouldn't have been able to do it without you guys!**

**So, back to our favorite not-quite-sociopath story. To be honest, I've been having a blast re-imagining slightly more competent versions of every character in the MHA universe, and I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! **

* * *

**A Precise Note**

* * *

The emptied aluminum-can landed in the trash, reverberating the echo of metal against plastic. "I remember."

"How was it?" came the girl's question. Tittering with enough excitement to send a flitter of discomfort down his stomach.

The event hadn't started, and everyone was looking to pass time. As always, the easiest ice-breaker was Quirks. Their functions. Their abilities. Their origins. Interesting stories behind them, funny relatable moments growing up. You were popular if you had a powerful quirk. Popular if you had a risqué quirk. Popular if you had a quirk that was simply aesthetically pleasing to the eyes or senses.

"Fine." The word slipped from his lips. The excitement died from her brown eyes with painstaking apparentness.

"Just fine?"

His mind made to form a scathing response, but his lips never had the chance. Another girl approached, almost nearly identically similar to the disappointed one. "Ignore her," the objectively _smarter_ girl said.

"Nee-san, come on – his Quirk, I mean, _it's –_"

"One more word and I'm shaving our head."

"Y-you wouldn't dare –"

"Keep talking and those dreams of wild hair-pulling flings you keep having are going to remain just that."

The first girl groaned. "Ugh. I hate you." She stuck her tongue out. "Spoilsport."

The first girl wandered off, mingling with individuals in the crowd. She approached another boy, around his age. Awkwardly talking to a hamster on his shoulder, huddled quietly, he jumped out of his skin once the annoying girl snuck up on him. A small swarm of insects arrived with astounding speed, forming a protective barrier.

"That dolt…" the girl in front of him sighed. "Sorry about my sister. She's…" she looked for a word, it seemed, that would properly encapsulate all she wanted to say. She didn't succeed.

He tilted his head, slowly, in understanding. He tilted his brow, a second later, when the girl 'yelped' cursing underneath her breath. A small trail of marks appeared on her arm. _Insect bites_, he observed. Insect bites, but yet, no insect in sight. He stared, for a few seconds, and she caught his stare.

"Ah," an awkward laugh escaped from her lips. "Don't worry, I'm used to it." She cleared her throat. "At least we aren't joined at the hip y'know? I heard it's a thing. Twins born with the same body. Conjoined twins, I think?" She shuddered. "Now _that_ would be the real nightmare."

He allowed himself, a small, noncommittal grunt.

"Wow, calm down, we've barely just met and you're giving me so much personal details."

"What do you want?"

She crossed her arms. "Your name, for starters."

"I'm not here to make friends."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm asking for your name, not your eternal loyalty."

He let his gaze stare on her for a few seconds. "Shinso." He allowed. "Shinso Hitoshi."

The recognition flashed in her eyes. She tried to hide it. "See, that wasn't so hard?" She said, smiling at him. "To think the 'Emperor of Nabu Middle School' could be such a friendly guy."

His fingers twitched. His mouth, moistened and dried, his tongue quickened and slowed, his brain worked fast, and yet slow, all to consider his next words – his next action.

"Whoa, whoa, relax," she rose her hand up in a gesture of surrender. "I'm not looking for trouble. My sister and I are here, just like you, just like everyone, for the same reason. We aren't… enemies."

The girl's gaze flickered, darting to him, and then back to her sister. The tiny hamster on the boy with the rock-head gnawed on her sister's index finger, and he watched as an identical wound appeared on that of the girl. She gritted her teeth, giving him a faint, clearly displeased smile.

"On second thought, consider _her_ your enemy. I _really_ would appreciate it if someone could whisper into her ear to make her _stop doing stupid things_ for just one second."

She sucked on her bleeding finger, before sighing. "Sorry Hitoshi-san, give me a minute."

She stalked off, muttering under her breath before punching her sister in the arm. Shinso's eyebrow quirked as both girls flinched simultaneously. A small, odd bickering session of pinches and hard pats ensued, which ended abruptly as soon as one girl slapped the chest of the other. Both stalked off in the same direction immediately after, clutching their arms around their chests, and _still_ bickering.

The sight amused him, along with several others who'd gathered in this strange, odd place. His amusement died not long shortly, as he remembered what brought him here, and remembered what'd been the words that put him off against the younger of the two twins.

"_Do you remember when you first activated your quirk?_"

She'd asked him. Such an innocuous question.

As if he could _forget_.

He remembered the day. The moment. Vividly, burned into the back of his memory with laser-like precision. Whenever he closed his eyes, his mind could replay the imprint of that moment. Of those uncertain, dangerous few seconds.

He remembered the hospital, the Doctor's room, the nauseating stench of artificial cleanliness and bleach. The sterile air and silent, quiet tension.

"T-that – that can't be right," his mother had said. He remembered how she clutched her purse, both hands shaking, as her eyes darted from his father to the doctor. "That – that can't be right at all. I'm – I – _I_ – no – no, I don't believe it."

She'd stammered, repeating over her words. His father had placed his hands into a steeple. He was silent. Unnervingly, frighteningly silent.

"Pardon me, Shinso-san," the Doctor had said. He adjusted his round brimmed spectacles, lightly brushing aside his comical mustache on his portly figure. "But surely you must have noticed something before now? Incidents that seemed to… _resolve_ themselves easily? Or perhaps certain requests being accepted more likely than not?"

"I –" his mother had licked her lips. "I assumed – I mean – I – I was always fairly attractive growing up – so – so I always just assumed –" her lips pressed tightly together. Her head, slowly, fell into her hands. "Oh my god. Oh my god."

"Maruta-sensei," his father's voice had come out. Cold. Stern. "Are you certain of what you're saying?"

He remembered how the doctor had adjusted his spectacles with a single push of his index finger. "Absolutely."

"Honey, listen – believe me, I – I didn't know. I – I swear I didn't know. I –"

"Nine years." His father had said. "For nine years. Since we met in High School. I always wondered… always wondered… why I could never say no to you."

He remembered his mother's voice breaking. "I – I swear I didn't know –"

He remembered his father snarling. "How can you not _fucking_ know you have a quirk?!"

He remembered, he could not _forget_, that it was first time he'd heard Shinso Kagayaki swear. The first time his father rose to his feet, eyes brimming with the flames of hatred. Love, easily, so ever easily, morphed into utter detestation.

It wasn't his fault. Nor was it his mother's fault. _That lying bitch_ or _that manipulative slut_ as were the names that his father had deemed her over the years. Somehow, his father failed to believe that his mother never knew about her quirk. Shinso wasn't certain who he believed either. A part of him remembered her innocent plea, the eyes that looked up at him, begging for support. Then, he'd heard her words, softly, slithering into his mind.

_Believe me. Please._

_Believe me._

_Believe me._

"**Did you know?**"

It was a simple question. One question. One moment. One second. His mother's eyes changed. His father's breath stilled. The doctor, twirled his mustache with above-average professional disinterest. The seconds that followed that single question he'd uttered had rippled across his life far faster and far more chaotically than he'd anticipated.

She never answered. At the time, his quirk couldn't do such a thing. She hadn't known that, then. That he couldn't make a person answer questions. He wondered, if things would have gone differently, had she known that fact. Had she, tried, so desperately, to not answer those three words.

"Hallo everyone!"

Two words uttered from the center stage broke him from his reverie. The lights in the hall finally flickered on, one-by-one, one after the other. The stage was elevated, and atop it, stood a weird, morphing wisp of purple-darkness in the form of a person. Dressed in an elegant suit, his gloved hands tapped and adjusted the microphone for the person who stood _beside_ him, looking even far stranger than the man who was a purple wisp.

The man had an assortment of hands on his face and body. The hands obscured his face, leaving only shaggy grayish-blue hair visible. His lanky form leaned back casually against a metal chair. With long, lazy motions, the man moved forward, tapping the microphone.

"Harro, ah-vrey-wun," he said again, in rough English. "Hey, hey, Kurogiri, can they hear me? Is this mic broken?"

The wispy shadow of a man, Kurogiri, took what seemed to be a bow. "I believe they can all hear you, Shigaraki-sama."

"Arru Raito!" he repeated, smacking his hands together. "Welcome!" the man known as Shigaraki announced. "I'm very, _very_ happy that all of you here decided to accept my invitation. I knew the forum was large, but even I didn't think _this_ many people would show up." He gave a large, hammy laugh. "See, see Kurogiri? The internet has it's uses! I told you they'd show up. I told you."

"You said there'd be free food and drinks!" a girl, shouted out.

Shigaraki snapped his fingers. "That's right! Food and drinks!" He turned to the purple haze. "So, Kurogiri? Where are the refreshments?"

Thick, purple smoke emerged from different corners of the room. Tables appeared, stacked to the brim with boxes of pizza, fries, soda, and other western junk food. Shinso took note of the red cups that appeared to be labeled with paper-tape and scrawled handwriting 'BOOZE'.

"Now we're talking!"

"Awesome!"

Several people made their way to the food stands with more quickness than Shinso had ever seen. Within minutes, almost everyone was chewing on something, had something in their hands or in their mouths, and the air in the room somehow _lightened_.

Shinso wasn't sure if it was the introduction of the free food. He wasn't sure if it was the seemingly amicable sounding Shigaraki, and the even further mysterious Kurogiri beside him. His eyes glanced to the room, and to the change in atmosphere, and forced himself to take deep, sharp breaths.

"**Are you in control?**"

The default question triggered his Quirk. He checked. He needed to know. He found himself still in control. He felt no outside influences slamming into his mind. He felt nothing out of the ordinary that would cause him to be on guard. He, like everyone else was here because –

_Because…_

An uncomfortable sensation knotted in his stomach.

…_Why am I here?_

The uncomfortable sensation became worse as another question knocked into his mind.

_How… did I get here?_

An invitation. He'd been invited. How…? Online? Yes. Online. One of the forums he frequented. An online forum that was often labeled as 'toxic' 'hateful' and 'discriminatory.' It'd been banned time and again, but kept resurfacing under different names. First it was _ , _then it was _quirkhatersanonymous_._com _and eventually .

There was a thread posted by a user called HelpingHands. A long narration about the consequences of forcing expectations of quirks on people. A heated rant from a person who wanted to be a hero, but failed because of his quirk. Another heated, arguably toxic flood of replies from people who had terrible or outright villainous quirks, complaining about how much they hated others born better than them. He remembered commenting on the thread. Complaining, among the multitudes, about his own problems.

Then he remembered the strange link. Posted by HelpingHands. The question, asking, if they were willing to do what it takes to change things. Asking if they were sick of things.

He remembered clicking on the invite. _Clicking_ on the invite. The invite had been a link.

And the next thing he remembered after that, was tossing aside his drink in a waste-bin, in a large hall filled with different people.

He broke out of his own mental hold, eyes immediately snapping wide as they shot desperately around the room. His lips opened to speak, but stopped immediately he felt a presence behind him.

"I would kindly advise you to refrain from taking any unnecessary actions," the man, he believed was called Kurogiri, landed a gloved hand on his shoulder. "I am aware of how your quirk works, Shinso-san. And do believe I can teleport you a hundred thousand feet over the Pacific sooner than you can utter a single word."

He swallowed the saliva slowly budding in his throat.

"Truly, you are a rather paranoid child," Kurogiri said with a hint of… _sympathy_. "I suppose it is understandable, considering your family background."

Shinso flinched.

"I almost marvel, to think, what sort of individual you would be had you grown up with ambitionless parents," Kurogiri shook his head. "But then again, such a thing was never possible. Adults have power over children, and to be an adult with power over a child with the power to command other adults? That power would be used, one way or another."

A soft sigh escaped the man's lips. "Afterall, what are children, if not living representations of one's self-serving desire?"

Kurogiri moved in front of him. Shinso noticed, for the first time, how tall the man was. His eyes were nothing more than two yellow floating flames within the purple-haze that obscured his face, yet, there was a strange, rich amount of emotion portrayed through those eyes.

"Alleviate loneliness, provide purpose or seek immortality through genetic transcendence… everyone in this room only exists because someone else was selfish. No one brings a child into this world for its own sake."

He didn't trust himself to speak. Didn't trust any words to come out of his mouth. He did not doubt the man's speed. Did not doubt that he would be elsewhere, within seconds, the moment he tried to use his Quirk.

"Kuurrrooogiiiirrrrri!" Shigaraki's cry cut across the room. "We need to get started!"

The strange wispy shadow of a man rose to full height, before casually adjusting his necktie. "Of course, Shigaraki-sama." A final gaze struck Shinso. "I was just making sure, there would be no… _distractions_."

The message was overwhelming clear. Shinso felt the sweat begin to drip from his brow. He understood, for a few seconds, that he was out of his league. Tremendously, significantly, and dangerously, out of his league.

"So," the man known as Shigaraki spoke up. "Who here loves videogames?"

Several hands, not occupied with food or drink, went up. Shigaraki clapped his hands. "Excellent! I'm a Gamer myself. HelpingHandsForAll is my handle. Feel free to watch my streams," he cleared his throat. "So, one of my favorite genre of videogames is RPGs. I always loved RPGs. Epic music. Tons of lore. Sweet gear. And the grind, the hours of grind is just so… rewarding."

Shigaraki hopped to his feet. "But."

The strange, hippy-looking hand-masked man began to scratch his neck.

"One thing I hate, one thing I _really_ hate, is how the heroes… always _win_."

There were some chuckles and murmurs in the crowd.

"Come on, we all know the villains are cooler right?" Shigaraki said. "They're cooler. Better looking. They've got epic stats and great armor. Complete with heart-breaking motives and backstories as to how they found themselves as villains – but – none of that matters! They're about to get beaten by some goody-two-shoes who had everything from wise old mentors to ancient prophecies backing them from the get-go!"

Shigaraki's voice grew louder. "But who supports the villains?! Where the hell are the mentors giving wise tips for the guy who wants to blow up the planet, or the Lady of the Lake offering up an evil magic sword that deals double damage to good guys when wielded by those with hearts of darkness? Where are the prophecies that announce a villain's ascension and victory, and the fortunate deux-ex-machina that shows up at the moment when they're about to be downed?"

"Excuse me," someone spoke up, a boy with a black, bird-like head. "I thought this meeting was about quirks? How does this have anything to do with most of us having negative-looking quirks or quirks we don't want?"

Shigaraki let out a laugh. "Don't tell me you don't see it, kid?" Shigaraki's hands spread outwards. "We are all villains."

The murmurs grew exponentially. Several of which were disgruntled.

"What the hell?"

"That's not funny."

"We're not villains!"

Shigaraki rose straight. His presence seemed to change. He towered, over the room. So much that Kurogiri appeared like a backdrop beside him, despite the shadow-butler being physically taller.

"Stop me if any of this is incorrect," Shigaraki began, "From the start, you wanted to be a hero." He said. "You wanted, more than anything, to be like the heroes of your dreams. You looked up to one hero or another, but one day, you woke up, and realized the gap is insurmountable."

Shinso's lips dried, as he saw several people turn their gazes downwards.

"Or all you ever wanted was to live normal lives. To be given the same amount of recognition or treatment as people with fancier, flashier, or more powerful quirks. You never had far dreams. All you wanted was fairness – a bit of equality."

More people turned their gazes.

"Or, you're just tired of being told, 'you'd make a great villain' over and over again with your quirk. Or tired of seeing the light die out of people's eyes once you tell them your gift, and they realize that they were talking with someone who didn't hit the jackpot on the gene lottery. Or worse, you're someone who struck out on it entirely, and now, you're best known as a 'freak.'"

Shigaraki's presence rose. "Or, or, you just want to live life without having your quirk stopping you from enjoying its tiny pleasures. You'd rather be quirkless than live as you currently do. But you can't – and you hate it, you hate your quirk. You think you hate your quirk, but not really. You just hate how others have better quirks, how people value you based on something decided before you're born and can't change."

Silence. Profound, silence.

"Disadvantaged. Frustrated. Unfulfilled. Misunderstood. Mislabeled._" _

For the first time, they were able to see Shigaraki's mouth open wide in a smile.

"Like all proper villains."

Shinso grit his teeth. "Heroes –" There was a blur. A blur so fast he barely noticed it.

"Let him speak, Kurogiri."

"Shigaraki –"

"Let. Him. Speak."

The blur, he realized, was the world. He stood center stage. Stood in front of the man known as Shigaraki. His heart was beating, burning fast in his chest.

"Heroes – heroes also start, disadvantaged, frustrated, and unfulfilled." The words came out all at once. "There's no rule, that says it only applies to villains."

Shigaraki remained silent. His right hand scratched at his neck. It itched, continuously, the only sound making its way across the entire room. "Heroes… also start off, that way you say?" A sound like a laugh emerged from his lips.

"Do you have, any examples, of such heroes?"

Shinso opened his mouth, but he found no words forthcoming.

"Perhaps the No. 3 Hero Hawks? Let me see, he was picked up as a child and trained by the government since he could spell his name. Born with a versatile quirk so, he's out. Maybe, maybe the No. 2 Hero, Endeavor?" Shigaraki laughed. "He's known as one of the strongest flame quirk users. He didn't start from a disadvantaged position. So, maybe, maybe, you're thinking about the No. 1 Hero, All Might?"

Shigaraki's lips upturned. "Do you believe, a person who can clear the weather with a punch, started out, frustrated, unfulfilled, misunderstood and disadvantaged?"

Shigaraki didn't give him the opportunity to answer. He instead turned to the hall.

"No 'hero' has ever come from a truly disadvantaged position. Good genes, powerful parents, inherited wealth, a sage-like mentor, and in a lot of stories, a prophecy, all guiding their path."

The man turned back to him. "There are no heroes, truly born from _nothing_."

Shigaraki turned back, once more to the room. "But villains? _Anyone_ can be a villain."

"Why would anyone want to be a villain?!" a girl shouted from the back.

At those words, Shigaraki snapped his fingers.

"Because it pays."

More purple portals opened from the ceiling. Money, thousands upon thousands of yen, flooded into the room.

"Because it's fun."

Toys. Games. Consoles. Jewelry. Gadgets. Wristwatches. More and more luxury items descended, and the room dissolved into chaos as people began to rush to grab item after item.

"Because you can do _whatever_ you want."

He snapped his fingers once more, and another portal appeared, this one, sporting a large, printed banner with words emblazoned:

**The League of Villains**

**Membership Now Open!**

**Become a Professional Villain (Pro-Villain) Today!**

"Shigaraki-sama… you… you still printed out that banner."

"We both know it'll work out for the best, Kurogiri."

Shinso wasn't sure what to say when he saw the rest of the words the Banner.

**THE LEAGUE OF VILLAINS**

**Membership Benefits**

**[Level 8+] Membership Benefits:**

**Tax-Free Weekly "Royalties"**

**Quirk Training and Optimization**

**Quirk Removal/Bestowal**

**Black Membership Card**

**Underworld Connections**

**Full Medical Insurance**

**Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free Card**

**[Level 5+] Membership Benefits:**

**Tax-Free Monthly "Royalties"**

**Quirk Counselling and Guidance**

**Red Membership Card**

**Public Record Erasure/Cleansing**

**Entrance Exams Cheat Slips**

**[Level 3+] Membership Benefits:**

**Tax-Free Quarterly "Royalties"**

**Quirk Problem Support**

**White Membership Card**

"**I Joined the V-League and All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt" Paraphernalia**

**Untraceable Cell**

Rounds of laughter made their way through the hall. "They're joking!"

"Are these guys really villains?"

"As if! No real villains would ever do something like this –"

"Hey, wait, tell me more about those Entrance Exams Cheat slips!"

"Can you really remove people's quirks? Is – is that actually possible?"

"There's no way it's possible! This whole thing is totally a scam!"

No one was taking it seriously. No one _could_ take it seriously. Sated with food, hands gripping money, gadgets and newfound pleasures, Shinso realized that no one was asking the real hard questions. No one questioned the sheer lethality of the air that both Shigaraki and Kurogiri carried themselves with. No one had felt the same uneasy pressure as he had, when standing directly in front of the man.

It was almost as if… as if… Shigaraki wanted them to _not believe_ him.

"With the White Membership Card, you'll be able to order around any local thugs and mobs you see to do minor things like scare someone off, help you with groceries, and the likes –"

"With the Red Membership Card, you can do the above plus order gangsters and hoodlums to attack or mug people you don't like, but nothing too extreme –"

"With the Black Membership Card, you can have them do anything you want. Murder, arson, kidnapping – and there are also some other benefits –"

"There's no way that's possible."

"I told you, he's messing with us. This whole thing is probably some really elaborate prank –"

"I'll grant you all one White Membership Card to use as you wish for the next twenty-four hours."

"To increase your Membership Level, you'll have to complete certain missions and tasks for the League, all of which will be delivered via untraceable cells…"

"Alternatively, recruiting more members will earn you more EXP so you can Level faster, and you gain more EXP every time your recruits go up in rank and recruit their own recruits…"

"Finally – and most importantly… Kurogiri knows where every single one of you lives. Inform any Pro-Heroes or Policemen of anything that happened here will only end with you being dumped on some abandoned island to slowly unravel your sanity and starve to death."

That was the one that stuck with people. The one that began to hint, that maybe, just maybe, they weren't being pranked.

"Well," Shigaraki yawned. "My stamina bar is depleted. Thank you all for coming, and I hope you all choose to enjoy being in the Villain's party. If you have any questions, find me online. HelpingHands-senpai is always there to lend a helping hand."

Shigaraki for the final time, clapped his hands. "Goodnight."

Shinso didn't know it then. He didn't think about it then, nor would he think about it, hours later, when he'd wake up in his room, on his bed, the entire events of the strange night being somewhat wispy in his memory. He would only find himself thinking about it once more, when he would find a white aluminum card on his bedroom table, with the words "L-O-V" written on top.

He would find himself realizing, that there was a villain out there, with the ability to open portals to seemingly any location in the world –

And that man had his address.

* * *

XXXXXX

* * *

"…why?"

"What now Kurogiri?"

"You went ahead with that ridiculous plan, even after _he_ said –"

"Sensei already has his own cult group. Why does he care if I make my own?"

"The _methods_ –"

"My methods will work. And if they don't… I'll try another method. And another."

"…we could have simply recruited _normally_."

"There's no point in recruiting mobs Kurogiri. Mobs always get stomped by any halfway decent hero. The trick is to recruit potential heroes. Good-guys falling to the darkness. Or innocent bystanders that are way in over their heads. That way, they're like essential NPCs. And heroes can't kill essential NPCs, no matter how much they want to."

"…"

"Play some videogames Kurogiri. You'll learn something."

* * *

**XXXXX**

* * *

"How about this one ka-chan?"

The boy rose the instrument. The woman shook her head.

"No?" he returned it. "Maybe something smaller?"

_Estinto_ footsteps. The first time she'd heard movements so silent. Footsteps unbelievably _tsundere_ to the floor. Behind the counter, she obscured her face with a magazine. She'd read the contents three weeks prior, when the magazine first came out. Her eyes were stuck on the spaces between words as her earlobes dug into the ground.

"Oh, Izuku-kun, I really don't know. It's been years since I picked up an instrument. Decades."

"Let's start with something small. This should do the trick."

He withdrew another instrument.

"A harmonica?"

He waved it. "It's small enough that you can use your quirk on it." He held it out. "You can also carry it around in your purse and play it wherever you go."

"People won't like that."

"Everybody likes good music." The boy wagged his finger. "Even Kacchan still plays the drums in his attic once in a while."

The woman suppressed a laugh, covering her mouth. "Does he know Mitsuki-chan was in a band, back in the day?" She said. "She dyed her hair and had piercings and everything. She would grab a microphone and scream really loudly into it. She was all about the heavy iron music."

"Ka-chan, I think it's called Heavy Metal."

"Metal, iron, they're the same thing aren't they?"

She stopped herself from clearing her throat. Realizing she'd been staring too long at a single page, she flipped the magazine, plugging her ears deeper into the ground.

_Estinto _footsteps. _Metronome _heartbeats. Her lower lip folded underneath her upper teeth. Her brows squeezed tight. She checked again. Again, she confirmed it. His heart was beating at a perfectly measured pace. A beat steady enough to be a backdrop for a rapper's freestyle.

"The harmonica – "

"You're getting one as well, aren't you?"

"Ah…"

"Izuku-kun!" The woman's voice was slightly stern. "I thought the idea was for us to spend more time together, and have more common interests?"

"It is!"

"Then why aren't you getting an instrument?"

The boy scratched his head. "I'll get one. Just, not yet."

"When?"

"After you've mastered that one."

The woman's heartbeats were fluctuating. The boy's heartbeats were still steady. Perfect. Rhythmic. Against her will, her right foot began to tap the floor, matching the rhythm.

"I don't understand Izuku-kun."

"Ka-chan…" The boy scratched his head. "It's better if I showed you."

His footsteps reached a certain area. She heard him, sit. She heard the first key he pressed against the classical piano. The _C5_ chord echoed throughout the music shop. Abruptly, without warning, more chords began to play.

She recognized it immediately. Any student of music would. The first movement of Beethoven's _Moonlight Sonata_ floated through the music shop with a morbid somberness. Each note, struck a chord so accurately that her magazine slipped from her face, and her eyes, locked, for the first time, fully, on the boy who sat at the piano.

Green hair tied back in a ponytail. Sharp, beautiful features on a lithely muscled body. His form was immaculate. His posture unnervingly fingers slowly danced atop the piano, gaining speed and momentum. Other customers in the shop had paused their activities to stare. Her father, carrying new boxes of drumsticks, stopped in his tracks as well.

The somberness of the first movement brought time to a standstill. She would swear, later on, that she could see the notes dancing in the air. That her life had frozen, morphed into colors of black and white, as the music melted into the background and turned reality into an old-timey movie.

At once, he transitioned smoothly into the third movement.

Time sped up. Colors splashed back into reality. Notes danced and swirled aggressively in the air, as his fingers raced across the piano, from one end to another, hitting keys with more grace and speed than should have been humanly possible.

The tempo increased. Her heart raced. Her eyes swirled with newfound light. Her body fought the contradicting urges to rise and dance and to sit still and marvel. Music was being played, connecting directly into and beyond the physical.

The green-haired woman, standing behind him, stared as transfixed as the rest of them. Her eyes gleamed with open amazement, as music, amazing, beautiful music, brought a new dimension to the shop.

Almost as suddenly as the virtuoso began his performance, he ended it, the tempo dropping, the song reaching its peak, the suddenness of the music, coming to a slow end to which she found herself dreading.

Once the final chord was struck, it was like a spell had been lifted. There was abrupt, immutable silence.

Then ear-shattering applause.

Many moved over to the boy, congratulating him, eager to shake his hand and greet him. Her father was amongst them, bellowing a loud, large laugh as he clapped his hands with more force than she'd heard in a long time.

"That was brilliant! Amazing!"

"Marvelous!"

"I was moved to tears –"

She wanted to move as well. She wanted to meet the boy who looked to be her age but could play the piano at a world-class level. A musician whose very heartbeat was a steady rhythm.

"Oh, it's nothing really."

He laughed off the praise and set conflicting emotions burning in her chest. _That wasn't nothing_. One side of her desired to smack him over the side of his head for the utterance. The other couldn't help but marvel at the humility, and wonder if it was possible for someone to have a laugh so pleasant to the ears.

She covered her face with her book once more, peeking over to glance at the boy's face. The _beautiful _boy. Her face burned as she realized where her thoughts had gone. Her heart thumped at an irregular rhythm the longer she sat, peeking over.

"…daughter your age! She'd love to meet you!"

_No!_ Her heart beat several times as fast. _Stupid otou-san – I don't –_

"Yoka-chan!"

_Not the nickname! Tou-san!_

She kept her breathing and heartbeat calm as her father, with his big annoying mug waved over to her, smiling at her and gesturing her over. She kept her heartbeat steady, as she walked over to the green-haired mother and son. She kept her heartbeat steady, as her father patted her on the back, making large boisterous exclamations.

"This is my daughter, Kyoka. She's a fantastic musician herself! Kyoka-chan, Midoriya-kun here is your age! Can you believe it?"

Green hair, sparkling teeth, asymmetrical freckles and blinding smile, the boy extended his hand towards her. "I'm Midoriya Izuku."

Her heartbeat went _fortissimo_.

She took his hand. "…I'm Kyoka. Jiro Kyoka."

The boy smiled, gently rubbing his thumb on the back of her palm. "Pleasure to meet you, Kyoka-san." His sharp green eyes landed on her earlobes, and marveled. "You have really beautiful ears."

Her heartbeat was _fortississimo_.

The _ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum_ was obscured all other sounds she could hear.

"I – er… t-thank you." She stuttered, jerking her hand out of his as quickly as she could. She could see her father, his gaze landing on her out of the corner of his eyes with a mischievous, knowing glint.

_Don't you dare –_

"Mrs. Midoriya, I noticed you have a harmonica on you. We have the diatonic, tremolo and orchestral types available. We also have them in different color schemes and sizes – if you'll follow me –"

_Oh, don't you dare – _

"Oh, forgive me, I'm not too knowledgeable on instruments. Izuku-kun is the one who's helping me pick an instrument." She sounded dazed.

Her son perked a smile at her.

"Ka-chan, how about you pick one with your favorite color?" He regarded her father. "Do you have any with a nice green tint?"

"Certainly. Right this way."

She breathed a sigh of relief as the boy followed along, and she did as well. Her father's plans, all, fortuitously, one-way or another, were foiled as the boy refused to leave his mother's side throughout their stay in the shop. She tried to probe for some questions, but she couldn't get them out fast enough, or she got them out too fast, or she barely got them out at all.

The boy's attractiveness unnerved her. She didn't consider herself unattractive, but began to doubt that belief in the few seconds she spent in his presence. He had the type of beauty she'd believed could only be achieved through the lens of a camera assisted by heavy amounts of makeup and fervent digital editing. They walked past a mirror, and standing beside him, she looked _plain_. Forgettable and mundane.

It made her overly conscious of her every word and action. She found herself either stumbling over her words or mumbling them silently. It didn't help that his heartbeat was a pleasant rhythm that she enjoyed listening to. It made things difficult that his feet were so silent so she'd accidentally bump into him because she was reliant on her sense of hearing as her major tool for navigation than her eyesight.

"S-sorry!" she sputtered out.

The boy smiled at her. "It's fine."

Her unusual clumsiness only made her more self-conscious, to the point at which even the one topic of conversation she was certain they would both share, music, and she couldn't find herself in it to open her lips and say the words.

"You have really quiet footsteps!" she blurted.

His head tilted, brows, quirking in amusement. "Do I?"

"They're almost inaudible."

"All the better."

He did not elaborate, and she could not ask him to. Navigating instead further through the bookstore, his gaze never strayed too far away from the woman with green hair.

"Worried about your mom?"

He gave her an odd smile. "A little."

"My dad's great at this stuff. He'll find her the right instrument."

"That isn't what worries me."

She crossed her arms. Her father was happily chatting it up with his mother. Somehow, the topic of conversation had strayed from instruments to children and parenting tactics.

"So…" she cleared her throat. "Where did you learn how to play so well?"

His smile went even odder. "At a music store."

"Really?" she uncrossed her arms. "Must have been some music store. Is it somewhere around here?"

"Hm. Not too far actually."

"Have I heard of it?"

"You probably have," he said. "Probably know it like the back of your hand."

He was being unusually vague. "And how would you know that?"

"Just a feeling." His shoulders raised and dropped. "An educated guess."

She noticed for the first time that he hadn't looked at her throughout their conversation. For the most part, his gaze was fixated on the woman with green hair. His face was unreadable.

"Something wrong?"

"I don't know yet."

She tilted her head. "You don't?"

"Today," he ran his hand through his hair, letting out a click. "Today is supposed to be about her."

"Birthday?" she hazarded.

"We had a fight, a while back. I said some things in anger. Some things I can't take back. I'm trying to correct that. Find common interests between us. Or make them. But…"

He hesitated.

"But…?"

"I wonder if I'm just forcing things my way, again." He let out a soft sigh. He muttered words under his breath that no one but her would be able to catch. "I've been doing a lot of that lately."

She thinned her lips. Clearing her throat, she made to give the boy a light tap on his shoulder. He weaved out of the way of her hand before she could touch him. The suddenness of it all threw her off balance, only for a hand to jerk out grab hers. Stabilize, her, in moments.

"Are you okay?"

His face was close. _So, so, so very close._

"Y-you have… great r-reflexes."

His lips went up. "I have to. I'm training to be a Pro Hero."

"Really?!" she blurted, before realizing she'd said that with far more enthusiasm than she needed to. "I – I mean… I'm applying to U.A. to become a hero also –"

"That's great," he beamed a smile at her. "So am I." He said. "Well, Kacchan and I – he's my friend – we're both going to take the exam this Saturday. So maybe we'll meet the venue?"

"That… that would be… nice."

Another brilliant, brightening smile disarmed her. "Best of luck, Jiro-san."

The mother and son departed with two harmonicas and a single flute. Her father, realizing she'd failed to converse with Midoriya, was left to the task of inviting him to join his orchestra. He politely refused, but did collect her father's card.

"Thanks for visiting Rockin' Music Stores! Hope to see you again!"

He waved, and cheered boisterously. She stood there, releasing an awkward breath she didn't know she was holding. Her father, beside her, turned, an annoying smirk on his face.

"What?" she bit out.

"My baby Yoka-chan has her first crush."

Her cheeks burned. "I do not!"

He tapped his ears. "Your old man has good hearing too. Your heart was _fortississimo _as soon as the boy complimented your ears."

Her face burned even hotter. She crossed her arms and avoided looking at him. "…you heard it too, didn't you? His heart."

"Steady." Her father said. "Beautiful." He declared. "The literal heart of a musician."

His hand landed on her hair, ruffling it. "I don't blame you. I could sit next to him and listen to that rhythm for days on. He's a rare gem, that Midoriya. His musical talent is one-in-a-million, no, maybe one-in-a-billion. I don't think even I could have played that song as beautifully as he did."

Her father rose a thumb up. "Your tou-san approves of your taste."

"Eh?"

"You have my blessing."

"B-b-bless –" she smacked his hand away. "Stop saying such embarrassing stuff tou-san! Jeez!"

She ignored her father's continuous, merciless teasing, knowing in the end that it was simply his blunt way of doing things. Musicians were a lot simpler in many ways than most people, and in the Jiro family, where everyone loved music as much as they loved each other, the only real requirement they possessed to like someone, was for that person to love music as much as they did.

She didn't know too much about Midoriya Izuku, but she could tell from the manner he played. Music had a way of translating feelings from the soul that couldn't be communicated with mere words or actions. It transcended barriers of language, age and sex, and delivered the meaning with heart.

Midoriya Izuku's music was beautiful, his heartbeat was steady, firm.

Thus she wondered why, when she remembered his face, striking upon the piano as he played the _Moonlight Sonata,_ when she remembered the initial timber and tone of his performance –

_Why does his music sound so…_

_Bitter_?

* * *

**XXXXX**

* * *

**U.A. High School**

**Principal's Office**

The tea was made exactly as he preferred it. A slight tang of bitterness, a hint of sweetness, some spiciness to round up the flavor. Not an inch of saltiness or sourness, but the faintest drops of honey around the edges of the mug made it all the better to drink with his accompanying cigarette.

The day was coming, for the next set of valuable students and brilliant minds to join the institution that would reshape them as heroes of society. The ideal warriors of justice. Or at least, that was the marketed image the world needed to hear. Far more euphemistic than admitting that they were in essence training children to become frontline soldiers in a never-ending war against the enemies of the government.

Sipping lightly from his tea, he cracked his paws, placed his cigarette on an ashtray, and turned once more to his computer.

"My, so many promising children this year. So many."

Of course, he already knew who would be admitted in and who wouldn't.

He already knew what classes they would be in. What connections they would make. The friendships and alliances that would be formed based on the data he accumulated from their school records and personal methods of information gathering.

He had already decided their seating arrangements, lunch plans, class outlines. He'd already foreseen how they spent their off-hours, free time and private moments. He knew how their child-brains, still underdeveloped but rushing with pre-adolescent overconfidence and hormones would formulate reactions accompanying romantic or sexualized feelings for each other.

He could already see the dramas, heartbreaks, comedies and anxieties in the hearts of the students as they placed being a teenager and aspiring to be a celebrity soldier on a scale and performed a circus balancing act.

The Principal sipped his tea, slowly savoring the honey from the side of the mug. "Oh, it should be just about time…"

He turned to his phone, smiling at the device. He waited, ten seconds. Five more seconds. His brows narrowed slightly in annoyance. Two seconds later, the device rang.

"_Hello. Principal Nezu?"_

"I've been expecting your call Toshinori-kun." _Two seconds earlier._ "You have met and explained the situation to Mirio-kun?"

"_Nothing ever slips by you, does it?_"

He let out a soft quiet hum. "How did he take it?"

"_He seems… determined. Strong. I believe… I believe he'll make an excellent Symbol of Peace_."

"And have you made-up with Sasaki-kun yet?"

He hadn't.

"_I… I have to go, Principal. There's a sludge villain at large –"_

Nezu hummed. "Go on then. Be safe, Toshinori-kun."

The call ended with a soft click. Nezu hummed again, reaching for his tea. Humans were so predictably irrational at times. Toshinori and Sasaki's relationship of hero and sidekick gone awry, with both being too stubborn to resolve it was just another example. Nezu didn't mind. For now, there was no urgency in resolving their fractured relationship. He would continue to let the humans be as the humans were.

"Hmm… A Sludge Villain he says?"

The Sludge Villain would be defeated long before Toshinori got there. He wondered what Toshinori-kun would feel upon meeting the odd duo responsible for it.

_Another chain series of events…_

The major players of the city were coming out in full force. They were all making their moves and plans, placing their pieces on the board and gathering their strength. Nezu knew enough about nearly all the players. All, but One.

That One – the One – the man with the most mysterious and dangerous nature of all. Any time he acted, any move he made, completely shattered the board and sent all of Nezu's plans and predictions travel in entirely different directions.

If he could just account for that man in his calculations -

He tried, once more, closing his eyes and concentrating –

He winced back from the tremendous headache. The sharp, piercing pain that had him holding his head in discomfort.

"Well… that was unpleasant."

Nezu sighed. He really hated that human. To have given himself a Quirk that made him immune to precognitive abilities... it was so _terribly_ annoying.

"Unto lighter matters then…" he checked his wristwatch. "Perhaps this thing is running slow again?"

As he uttered those words, his phone rang.

"_Hello?"_

"Good day, Intelli-san," he began cheerfully. "I've been expecting your call."


	9. Suspicion

**Aaaand we're back!**

**Been heavy on the worldbuilding for this story more-so than I have for probably any other of my fics. I guess the Boku no Hero world is just that fascinating, albeit an unfortunately optimistic view of superhero society. Now Amazon's _The Boys_ on the other hand, THAT is how a modern-day superhero society would function. Damn that show is good.**

**Fair warning, this fic has been somewhat 'light' so far compared to my usual works. It'll get increasingly darker, Deku's perspective and character will get increasingly warped over time, and if you are one of the people who idolize your 'cinnamon roll' do-no-wrong views of Midoriya Izuku, this story will be hard and painful for you to sit through. I will recommend you stop reading this and find another fic where Deku is the perfect hero you want him to be.**

**No, seriously. You've been warned.**

* * *

"_You_ have a date."

Midoriya's head bobbed as he gulped down the bottle of water. He made a sound of relief, and poured the rest of the contents down his head. "She's… very smart."

"I'm more surprised that she's fucking real."

"Thanks for believing in me, Kacchan."

Kacchan snorted. "Just…" He shook his head, scowling off at the rising sun. "Huh. You're right. Never believed you had it in you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Figured you'd grow old surrounded by dozens of girls who wanted to bone you, but never take 'em up on their offer cause you'd be too dense to realize what they're offering."

"Saiko and I aren't going to _bone –_" he tossed the bottle of water, and Katsuki caught it without looking. "We're just meeting out for lunch." Midoriya frowned. "Wait, there are girls who want to… with _me_?"

"See? There, that's that fucking denseness I'm talking about."

"Kacchan –"

"How the hell is it, that you can pick out the bloody legs of an ant inside a bowl of murky soup, but can't even realize when a group of bimbos have the hots for you?"

"A _group_ of –" Midoriya coughed. "You're not talking about the girls in class are you? Kacchan – I've told you, they just needed my help, and that was it."

"Yeah, they needed your _help_ alright."

"I thought you didn't pay attention to these type of things… or… care about them."

Kacchan's right eye twitched. "Do I look like I'm a fucking eunuch?"

"You never seemed to care about girls."

"There hasn't been anyone fucking worth caring about thus far."

"Ah."

The morning sun began to truly peak in the sky, the heat and light signaling the end of their morning run. Keeping in shape was a necessary habit for those whose aspirations leant towards the job of heroics… or otherwise. They needed to be firm, capable, and hardy. They needed to have the right stamina to outrun danger and dash in at a moment's notice to stop evil and villainy.

Kacchan had been the one to suggest the morning runs originally, and Izuku agreed to them. They started off on the first week with one-kilometer sprints, running a full one-kilometer for seven days until they got a hang of the rhythm and boosted their stamina to be able to handle the task without issue. They doubled that number to two kilometers in the second week. Three in the third. Four in the fourth.

Next week, he and Kacchan would start running ten kilometers every morning, before school, and even on the weekends. Kacchan had started sleeping in class more often from the energy loss, but Izuku didn't have much issues with it, and had continued to use class time for his own personal study.

"So, this girl you're meeting –"

"Saiko."

"Saiko. Whatever. What do you like about her?"

"She's smart."

"Mentioned that."

"She's nice."

"Most people's default setting."

"Kacchan, why're you interested?"

"Because it's you, Izuku. I wouldn't put it past you to pity-date a girl you don't fucking like if you think it'll make her just a tiny bit fucking happier."

Izuku opened his mouth. Words of protest were meant to have come from them. Supposed to. He breathed into cold morning air, seeing his breath appear before his face, before closing his lips. He couldn't exactly deny it, because it was something he could see himself doing. _Technically it's something I'm already doing…_ but he couldn't mention that. For now, _that_ secret would remain a secret. Kacchan wasn't ready to handle that information. He probably never would be.

"Shit – the fuck Izuku, you'd _actually –_"

"I mean… in the long run it'll make her sadder if she realized I only dated her because I felt bad for her. But if she doesn't mind that I dated her out of pity…"

"You're fucked up Izuku."

"Is it wrong to want to make people happy?"

"Even if that happiness is a fucking lie?"

"As long as they never learn it's a lie – then, isn't it fine?"

"Fucked. Up."

Izuku sighed. Kacchan was Kacchan, and he still remained obstinate on things like this. Still believed, with pessimistic zeal, about the inherent bad and evil in the world. Izuku wasn't saying that there weren't bad and evil people in the world, he was just saying that most people's default state wasn't. Spreading happiness to the world was a _good_ thing. Parents lied to their children about Santa Claus in order to make them happy and believe that a person brought them gifts. Churches and religions in the Pre-Quirk era told unconfirmable tales about the existence of a reward for one's good deeds in an afterlife, and people believed it because it gave them the strength and hope to keep marching forward and live, day by day. They went on and built charities and organizations to make the world a better place. So what if they did it in expectation for a reward? They still did _good_ things.

There were some people who didn't understand. Even if you did a good thing for the wrong reasons, as long as you did a good thing, that was enough. So what if some people took a video of themselves helping a homeless man and did it to advertise their generosity? The hungry man didn't care – he'd have food and money, and that was more than those condemning the helpers were capable of providing.

As long as you did a good thing, did your motivations really matter?

"So, is that what you're doing to this Saiko girl?"

"No."

"You sure about that?"

"Saiko and I've been chatting since we met a few months ago," Izuku said, pausing to gather his thoughts. "She kind of challenged me do to something with my Quirk that she didn't think I was capable of doing… and we kinda non-verbally agreed to only meet after I'd done what it was she thought I couldn't do."

Kacchan snorted. "Sounds like a bitch."

Midoriya chuckled awkwardly. "W-well she's not… I mean… she's not all bad. She's just a bit too smart for her own good. I don't understand some of the stuff she talks about, sometimes. She's kind of the type of person you'd need to do an internet search just to be able to follow her in conversation. She enjoys tea, a lot. She likes Pre-Quirk Era fiction. Western Philosophy. Science Fiction books. She loves astrophysics. She's written a book on it."

Kacchan stared. "She's in high school and has a fucking book on astrophysics?"

"She graduated when she was nine."

Kacchan's face scrunched up. Izuku shrugged, an awkward laugh slipping from his lips. "I told you she was smart."

"Huh. How'd you say you two meet again?"

"Matsuda-san introduced us."

"…you met at your otaku club?"

"Yeah."

"Huh." Kacchan said. "You can meet girls at nerd gatherings now? What the hell is the world turning into…"

Izuku's lips quirked. "Kacchan… are you… you actually… _actually_ interested in girls?"

"As opposed to fucking what, being interested in starfish?"

An undignified snort escaped Izuku's nostrils. "…so… what kind of girl are you looking for?"

"I'm not _looking_," Kacchan said. "I'll know when I find her. And that'll be that. What matters most is becoming the No. 1 Hero. Getting a girlfriend is something any idiot can do. But not anyone can be No. 1."

"I dunno, Kacchan. I think you might scare off girls with your explosions."

Kacchan scoffed. "Better for me. If she can't handle a few explosions, what good is she? I need a partner, not a burden."

_Fair enough_, Izuku thought.

"You'd also better not let some lovey-dovey shit get your eyes off the prize Izuku. I'll fucking kill you if you end up failing the entrance exam because your head was in the clouds over some girl."

"Relax, Kacchan," Izuku hummed. "There's nothing in this world that's going to distract me from doing what it is that I set out to do."

Especially now, when he was entering into the first phase of his plans. Now, when everything was slowly starting to align, and his goals would increasingly be within reach. The task would be difficult, of course, and he would certainly make a lot of enemies, but Izuku was prepared to make that sacrifice.

"You said she challenged you to do something with your quirk?" Kacchan asked. "What's that all about?"

"Oh, well, basically she wanted me to solve this really complicated science problem regarding the Quirk Factor. Essentially finding and isolating the Quirk Gene from neural connections and cerebral pathways, and identifying the core activation mechanism in organisms which enable the usage of quirks, along with exploring the limitations and why those limitations are in place. It's really quite interesting."

"…_right_." Kacchan said, his eyes darting around. "Interesting."

"So, Kacchan, the way I was able to solve this problem was that –"

A large, billowing crash echoed in the street ahead. Kacchan had an expression on his face that almost said, _thank god,_ and Izuku couldn't stop the smile on his lips. He'd never truly lied to Kacchan about what he did, or lied to anyone, truly, about some of his more… questionable activities. He was just fortunate enough, that they didn't ever seem interested in learning as to how Midoriya Izuku managed to breakdown the complicated drug Trigger, and refine it into a serum which was capable of significantly enhancing quirks, without any drawback of hyper-aggression or mental instability.

"Let's check out what that was."

"We might make it late for class if we do that."

"We'll be taking and acing the entrance exam soon anyway. You really still give a shit about classes that aren't doing anything for us?"

Izuku's lips opened but Kacchan beat him to the punch, racing down the street. "Last one there is second place trash!"

"Damn it Kacchan!"

* * *

XXXXXX

* * *

_Move, move, move!_ Yasui Odei knew the risks he took. _Get the hell out of my way!_ His internal turmoil didn't stop him from slamming civilians aside in his getaway. His form was never built for haste, and his maximum speed down a busy street on a school day was limited by how many people he barked to get the hell out of his way. The alarms were already blaring, and he knew, all it would take, was one do-gooder bystander to ruin his day. _Fuck, there they go –_

"Villain!"

The cry was always the same. "There's a villain on the loose!" A busybody would yell. "Somebody call the Pro-Heroes!" another would scream. For the first time, they were correct, in that he was doing something villainous. Other times, even when they weren't, they'd simply just assume and immediately sound the cry. _Fucking bastards wouldn't last a day…_

The civilians probably thought to themselves, _there goes a revolting looking sludge-man! He must be a bad guy!_ Yasui scoffed. _Bastards_. They were all bastards. Did they think he _chose_ to be a pile of puke-green sludge? That if he could be something else, he _wouldn't?_ No, of course not. He wasn't bloody stupid. Nobody in their right minds would want to live their life as a formless, gelatinous blob monster.

"Halt there, villain!"

_Damn it!_ Yasui hated them. He hated heroes. Heroes were everything he was not. It wasn't bad enough that they were born with better quirks, oh-no, they also had the adoration and support of the public. Some snobbish-pricks who got lucky with great quirks and felt that they were better than everyone else because of it. _Fucking bastard! GET OUT OF MY WAY!_

Yasui didn't care to look where the bastard landed. He heard a sickening _crunch_ from the landing, and equal parts vindication and terror swept through him.

_Come on, a manhole – manhole – the nearest manhole damn it! _Yasui searched, frantically making his way down the streets as he looked for his escape route. Robbing a bank in daylight in a city filled with Pro Heroes was a suicidal deed. Villains who committed grand crimes in daylight were of two categories: the dangerously competent or the immensely idiotic.

Yasui was neither.

He was of a rare, third category: the_ incredibly _desperate_._ He'd been pursuing the only type of honest, decent work that anyone born as an ugly gelatinous being could pursue. The world was a large place, filled with different people with different tastes, and as it turned out, a lot of people had this strange, inexplicable fantasy of getting thoroughly ravished by living gelatin.

Yasui didn't understand the fetish, but he didn't need to understand it to make money. His fellow co-actors were often less than eager to get down to business as he was. Yasui didn't take it personal when they puked after the taping was done, nor did he take personal the looks of disgust and revulsion they would shoot his way once the director told them what fetish it was they'd be catering to.

Sure, there were those who'd originally been enthusiastic, all of which had immediately lost that enthusiasm once the camera started to roll and Yasui did as he was meant to. There was a reason a 'fantasy' was meant to be just that, and that was the fact that Yasui didn't have any aphrodisiac-secreting magic-bullshit to make the ordeal better. If he was some kind of fantasy-slime, Yasui knew his life would have been far easier, but he wasn't that lucky.

Someone else _was_ that lucky, and once that person showed up, Yasui found himself out of a job. He tried everything else. He tried firefighting, but was let go because a child was too scared to jump into his arms and would rather stay in a burning building. He tried construction work, but didn't have the necessary chops needed to do it. He went as low as sewage management, and even that was better served by some bitch whose Quirk could create black holes or something.

His landlady already barely tolerated him living in her apartment. He'd been rejected tenancy in different places because the owners didn't want it known that a 'monster' lived in the vicinity. If he defaulted on his rent, even just once, that would be it – he would find himself on the streets, without anything to his name.

None of that was what drove Yasui to rob the bank that afternoon. Bad as it was, his decision to risk it all was spurned by something more than a desire for self-preservation.

"Surround him!"

More heroes. He didn't recognize any of them on sight. _Cannon-fodder – if I can just – just get away…_ If he could get away from these ones before anyone really dangerous managed to show up, then he could make it. _I can make it,_ he repeated. _I can make it in time._

The heroes were rushing to clear the path, evacuate the civilians. Yasui saw it as an opportunity. He searched the area. School children were up and about. His eyes locked on to two boys, perhaps in middle-school, who stood off in the distance. The blonde one had scary eyes, and Yasui felt it wasn't wise to choose someone who'd struggle. The one standing beside him –

_A pretty boy_, Yasui was disgusted. He was envious. The green-haired boy possessed a face that looked like it could be plastered on magazines and found in expensive catalogues. Someone like that most likely had never suffered in life. Someone like that would never be able to relate to him. A scathing, bitter laugh escaped from within him. _If I was born that pretty, what would my life be like?_

With simmering resentment, Yasui lunged for the boy. His gelatinous form swayed and swept past the attempts of the Pro-Heroes to stop him, as he inched ever closer to his target. He'd learned how to forcefully take over people's bodies from all the experience he had in the industry, and he was thankful for that at least. The boy was handsome, and handsome people usually had good quirks, because kami was an unfair, petty, bastard.

"Oi."

A single word stopped him in his tracks. He hadn't been paying much attention, to the blonde boy beside his target. The blonde kid with dangerous eyes. The kids' red eyes pierced into Yasui's form so sharply, that for the first time in a long while, he remembered what fear was supposed to feel like.

"Kacchan," the pretty boy spoke up. "Smash and Grab?"

"Tch. There are Pro-Heroes are here."

"Quirk Restriction Law allows for exceptions under duress, in self-defense, or in defense of another."

Yasui was not a religious man. Yet, in that moment of gazing into the blonde boy's red eyes and terrifying grin, he could have sworn he say the devil.

"_Now we're talking."_

Yasui didn't have time to question it. An earth-splitting explosion rattled him, the shockwaves dispersing and sending his liquid form into the air. His consciousness travelled from individual molecules, back and forth, attempting to reform as quickly as possible.

Except, the pretty boy was moving. There was something in his hands, it seemed. _A flask?_ Yasui was confused. _What is he doing with a –_

If there was, indeed, a kami up above, watching over humanity, Yasui would have cursed him. Yasui would have cursed his fate, his luck, his life, just as the last bit of his liquid form was sealed away into a school child's water bottle.

* * *

XXXXXX

* * *

_What… did I just… see?_

"Let me out of here! Let me out! Let! Me! Out!"

Shinji Nishiya, better known as the Pro-Hero, Kamui Woods, could only stand and stare with the vast majority of the shell-shocked heroes and civilians. The rampaging villain they'd failed to stop screamed loudly from within an enamel flask, held in the hands of what appeared to be a middle-school student.

The two boys stood lackadaisically, as if somehow failing to grasp the enormity of their actions. Perhaps not failing, but rather, not caring, about the nature in which they incapacitated and captured a villain.

"Tch. You were slower than usual on your right swing."

"You're joking Kacchan."

"I know what I saw. Why'd you hesitate?"

_Hesitate?_ Kamui Woods couldn't understand. His own eyes had watched, barely able to keep up, when the green-haired boy leaped and captured each fragment of the blasted sludge in a motion so elegant it could rival ballet. Even as a Pro Hero, he barely made it out, but somehow, his friend could not only see all of it, but point out such minuscule lapses?

"Hey… Kamui…" Death Arms whispered to him. "Who… are these kids?"

The spellbound silence brought forth by the duo's performance wore off, and people immediately began firing the exact same questions.

"That was amazing!"

"Woah! They totally took out that villain like it was nothing!"

"I got it on my phone, look – look!"

Shinji scratched the back of his head, letting out a tired sigh. "I don't know… but I have a feeling we're going to be finding out soon."

He kept his gaze focused on the boy with the green hair. By default, he appeared to be the most approachable of the duo. Kamui tried to be the type of person who didn't immediately judge people by their appearance, but there was no denying it, that standing side-by-side, the green haired boy seemed more likely to be the respectful sort.

The boy's eyes lit with recognition the second he approached. "Ah, Pro Hero Kamui Woods-san." He tilted his head in a semi-formal bow. "Are we in trouble?"

_He's very polite too, _Shinji noted. "No – not at all. Normally, interfering with the capture of a villain would be considered an act of vigilantism…" the boy's eyes did not possess an ounce of regret or concern. It was almost unnerving.

"But as the villain in question clearly attacked you with malicious intent, you were within your rights to defend yourself."

"And that was some mighty fine defense," Death Arms whistled. "Damn, you kids are good. You looking for work? You could come work with my agency."

Shinji rolled his eyes. "Death Arms, they're clearly still Junior High Students."

"We're applying to U.A.," the green haired boy spoke up, a hearty smile plastered on his face. "So, maybe when we get our Provisional Licenses? What do you think Kacchan?"

The blonde-haired boy glanced at the two men, and then snorted. "I don't work for losers."

"Kacchan –"

Death Arms crossed his arms, barking a laugh. "Pretty sharp mouth you got on ya, don't you kid?"

"Forgive Kacchan, he's gets grumpy when he hasn't eaten breakfast."

"Oi!"

The green-haired boy bowed a bit. "I'm Midoriya Izuku. This is my best friend, Katsuki Bakugo."

Shinji committed the names to memory. "A pleasure to meet you, Midoriya-san. If I may ask… what Quirk do you have?"

"Ah, well, that's –"

"Oi, Izuku." The blonde interrupted. "Hand them the villain and let's get going. We've got to get to school remember?"

"Come on, Kacchan, they're Pro-Heroes –"

"Pro Heroes that needed us to do their jobs for them?" the boy, Katsuki, scoffed. "I could probably take them on and win. _You_ could probably take both of them on at the same time and win."

Shinji wanted to interrupt and set the record straight. His pride, however, knew that he couldn't. For starters, there was no point in arguing with a Junior High School student over something as ridiculous as beating them in a fight, and second, the boy wasn't completely wrong in his assessment that he was needed to capture the villain.

Shinji's quirk was ill-equipped for such a foe, as was Death Arms and Backdraft. Meaning, on their own, the best they would have done was to keep tabs on the villain and stop him from harming innocents, while waiting for someone more suited to the task of capturing it.

This was of course, still rather important hero work. Minimizing casualties and holding down the fort was by no means any less of a job for a Pro Hero. However, as was in sports, while it was great to be the man with the most assists, you only ever got real attention for being the man to score the most goals.

"There's a lot more to hero work than merely catching the villains," Death Arms chided. "You got some real chops on you kid, but you're not going to get far with that attitude. Not unless you're aiming to be an Endeavor-clone."

"Who the hell would want to be a copy of the guy forever stuck in second place?"

Shinji winced at that. The green-haired boy, Midoriya, merely shook his head, an expression on his face which clearly told him how he was used to his friend's rather abrasive attitude. The boy cleared his throat, and with a polite bow, handed over the flask containing the sludge villain.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Kamui Woods-san, Death Arms-san, but we really need to get to school before we're late."

"Tsk." The blonde boy clicked his tongue, before turning around. "Heroes don't fucking lose."

Shinji could tell that the Midoriya boy was making a hasty getaway for his friends' sake. Or at least, it was the impression he got. The two boys also didn't manage to get far before they were being swarmed by spectators asking them questions and giving them congratulatory pats on the back. The Pro Hero had a feeling that he knew what was going to be on the seven o'clock news tonight.

"Heh, the UA Festival is gonna be exciting this year." Death Arms chuckled.

"You think they'll make the cut?"

"You think they _won't?_"

Shinji shrugged. "Not many people can say that they've stopped a villain even before they entered a Hero Academy. It doesn't exactly mean they're hero material. Well, at least, not both of them."

"Now the blonde kid may be a bit rough around the edges –"

"No, not him." Shinji interrupted. "The other one."

"You're kidding, right?"

"…he was amused." Shinji said. "The expression on his face, when he asked whether or not he was in trouble. He looks and feels like a generally good kid, but…"

Shinji couldn't shake it off. When he'd brought up the fact that what they'd done could be considered vigilantism, he'd expected some sort of reaction, typically. Instead, there'd been nothing. No, there'd been something, and that something was the fact that there was nothing. Aspiring applicants to a Hero Academy knew what it meant to have something as serious as a vigilantism charge on their record, and yet…

Midoriya Izuku had been amused.

"Anyway," Shinji held the flask containing the sludge villain. "We might as well hand this guy over to the –" Shinji felt the flask. He shook it, once, twice, and sure enough, it was filled with _something_, but there were no longer any voices from within.

He was tempted to open it up, just to confirm that it really was the right flask, but he knew that if he did, and it _was_, then he'd merely let the villain loose. There was no reason to risk that, not right now, nor right here.

"Something wrong Kamui?"

"No… Nothing."

_Midoriya Izuku_, the name came to mind. _What an interesting boy._

* * *

~~~~~A Precise Note ~~~~~~~

* * *

"Do you _have_ to antagonize everyone you meet Kacchan?"

"They sucked Izuku. They sucked and you know it." Kacchan pointed his fingers straight at him. "Say it wasn't us that sludge creep aimed for. He'd have grabbed some poor bastard while the '_heroes_' were twiddling their thumbs."

"There wasn't much they could do," Izuku hummed. "Their quirks weren't equipped for the situation."

"Bullshit," Kacchan scoffed. "That's the problem. They were just thinking about their quirks. Do you know how much shit they could have done if they'd thought about solving shit _without_ using their quirks? Woodface can't trap him with his vines, sure, but what the fuck is stopping him from busting the fire hydrant and hosing down the sludge to slow him down?"

"You mean other than the repair fees and collateral damage fines?"

Kacchan pressed his lips together. "You're shitting me."

"Kacchan, Pro Heroes have to keep damages to the minimum, because it gets taken out of their paychecks, and gives a bad reputation for their Agency."

"So, what, your rep is more important than catching the bad guys?"

Izuku gave a sheepish grin. "Sorta." He shrugged. "You've got to remember that being a Pro Hero is also a business, Kacchan. You're a celebrity, and an authority figure, and a first responder, and… well… at times you've got to pick your priority."

"That's… fucked."

Izuku didn't disagree.

The rest of the walk to Aldera Junior High was done in a disgruntled, but not uncomfortable silence. It gave Izuku the time to think. He'd been doing that a lot, _thinking_. Sometimes he wondered if he truly had the conviction needed to go ahead with his goals, but whenever his doubt came up, he squashed it immediately and reminded himself as to why he was doing all this in the first place.

Funding of course, was going to be his major problem for now. He didn't own a bank account and couldn't quite open one without parental supervision. Whatever money that was put into the account would obviously draw significant attention once the funds began to pour in. Hence, that was why he needed _her_.

The murderer.

"Oi… Izuku, look alive."

Their usual pathway was blocked. Not by construction or by an immutable obstacle, but instead, by shabbily dressed hooligans, about four of them in total. One had red hair styled into a mohawk that gave him the impression of a rooster. He was the one in front of the gang of four, with the other three members sporting similar mutant-type physiology such as an extended tongue or long, ape-like arms.

"He's the one ain't he, Boss?" a man on the left side said. "Green hair, pretty face. Yeah – he's definitely the one."

"I can see that you idiot," the red-haired rooster man said. He gave a sneer, before turning to face Izuku. "Hey, kid. Don't make this rough on yourself. We've got instructions not to hurt you – so if you just come along quietly, this'll all go easier."

"Um –"

"Wait, wait," the rooster-man held his hands up, "Before we get started, do either of you have a card?"

Izuku flicked his gaze to Kacchan. Kacchan's brows furrowed in a blend of annoyance and irritation. "The fuck are you talking about?"

"Even if all you've got is a White Membership Card, you can flash it and we'll be on our way. They made it clear that all kids with cards are off limits, even for other kids with cards."

_Cards?_ Izuku's brain started working. He searched for any connection or memory he possessed of the past few weeks with anything concerning cards or memberships. The only thing which came to mind was apparently some kids acting oddly suspicious, shifty and flighty, and the one time a boy from his school had dropped a strange White plastic card with the letters "L.O.V" atop.

He didn't have enough data to draw an accurate guess, but he felt he would get his answers another way.

"Just so you know," Izuku began, "Under Section 4, Sub-section 5b of the Quirk Restriction Law, it is not punishable to utilize one's quirk when it applies to the defense of another, alter ego defense, defense of others, or defense of a third person. We have the right to use reasonable force including –in certain circumstances– the use of deadly force."

"Cute," the mohawk man said. "And am I supposed to be scared?"

Izuku gestured his hand. "My friend here, has a Quirk capable of generating explosions. His maximum explosive yield is in the _kiloton_ range. To put this into perspective, one of the famed nuclear bombs from the Pre-Quirk era had a yield of just about fifteen kilotons or sixty-three terajoules. While my friend certainly isn't currently capable of outputting that yield, he is, however, capable of generating an explosion on a much smaller scale that will still surely vaporize your flesh and liquidize your organs."

Everyone went silent. Even Kacchan was unusually quiet.

Izuku didn't let his smile let up as he took a step forward. "Should he be forced to engage in combat in the defense of another, that is, myself, it is highly likely that we can kill all four of you and get away with it in the court of law, while spinning the narrative for us to be known as brave heroes and your names, and family names, forever known as villains who sought to harm schoolchildren."

He took another step forward, and all the men took a step back.

"That said, your mother, father, brothers and sisters will be harassed, shamed, thrown out of stores and rejected life-changing opportunities for being the dead relatives of evil villains. If you have no value for your own life, please consider theirs. Don't be the reason your parents hang themselves from a tree out of shame."

The three men at the back had increasingly pale visages. Midoriya could almost hear their thumping heartbeats. He could see the sweat gathering on their faces, identify the tiny micro-expressions of doubt and fear. The only one still struggling with indecision was the mohawk man, to which, Midoriya identified the cause of his indecision as a stick-and-carrot situation.

"B-boss… I think – I think we should think about this."

"Shut up damn it." The mohawk man said to his comrade. His gaze flickered to Kacchan, who, playing along, started sparking loud, wild explosions in his palms.

"F-fuck." The rooster-man swore. "Listen… I – I don't want to do this either – but the Hand and the Void – you can't go against them. They – they made the decision. We have to do whatever the brats with the cards order us to do or else –"

"Or we'll vanish," the thug with long arms whispered. "Like Aruta-san and Nize-san."

Izuku's mind was running a thousand miles a minute. "The Hand and the Void?"

"The _League_, man. They –" the rooster man bit his lip. "Look, all I know is, a girl had a Black Membership card, so we gotta obey them. If we don't – it ends bad. Every thug on the street, every criminal in this city that isn't affiliated with the Eight or the MLA is automatically a puppet for the Hand. And the Hand gave out cards to a large group of kids, so we gotta do whatever those kids want us to do depending on the card they got."

"You're saying someone told you two to… kidnap me?"

"The girl, she – she wore your uniform," the long-armed thug said. "She said you'd be jogging down this road – said she didn't want you hurt or nothin' but just wanted us to tie you up and bring you to 'em – and – and –"

The man didn't manage to let out another word. Izuku didn't know what to say when the thug suddenly disappeared. There was no sound to accompany his disappearance. Neither motion nor noise nor anticipation. For all intents and purposes, one minute, the thug was there, the next, he simply stopped existing.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck! The Void! The Void! Fuck! No, please! Wait – I didn't say anything! I didn't –"

They vanished. One, by one, until it was as though they were never there to begin with. Their path was left unobstructed, and an eerie silence settled in the air.

"…What the fuck just happened?"

Izuku found a new question he didn't know the answer to.

* * *

XXXXX

* * *

Being one of the last days of school, and being two of Aldera Junior High's most promising students, neither of them got into trouble for getting to class significantly later than normal. A lot had happened in one morning, such that both boys found themselves retreating to their thoughts in lieu of the strange, somewhat unsettling experience they had.

"Izuku-kun, are you alright?"

"Izuku-kun, you look a bit tired. Can I help you with a massage?"

Katsuki Bakugo could barely restrain his irritation at the number of hanger-on female classmates that swarmed Izuku's seat once they settled in for class.

"Ah, it's nothing – I'm fine, thank you."

His irritated thoughts settled as he remembered the scene that had occurred before them. Izuku almost seemed to transform into a completely different person in front of those thugs. Whereas Katsuki had been getting ready to flare up a fight, Izuku completely demolished the utter need for a fight with nothing more than a few words – words to which, were for the most part, completely and utterly true.

Katsuki knew his explosions could be lethal. He wasn't an idiot. His body had developed a ridiculous resistance and strength to be able to ensure he could withstand the kickback of his own explosions without blowing his limbs off, but most humans weren't like him. Katsuki's explosions didn't have a 'non-lethal' setting. His saving grace was learning to control his explosions until the damage they did was skin-deep and superficial. Yet, at times, that wasn't enough.

He was aware that if he truly fired his explosions without restraint, he could effortlessly kill people.

He wouldn't of course, he was aspiring to be a hero, not a murderer. Yet, the manner in which Izuku had so casually brought it up and used it as ammunition against the thugs unnerved him. The calm way he talked about killing them and making their families suffer unnerved him. It unnerved him because this was _Izuku_ of all people.

Mr. Midoriya I-can't-turn-down-a-person-in-need-of-help Izuku.

It was like watching Santa Claus pull out a gun and begin to mug someone off the streets.

Sure, he'd always wanted Izuku to grow some backbone, but this was growing a backbone, and then getting a reinforced steel plating across your spine before affixing a giant mechanical dorsal shark fin to it.

Izuku didn't seem obsessed or interested in becoming the No. 1 hero. He seemed less and less interested in that, and more and more interesting in his bizarre research and studies of everything from biology and anatomy to physics and engineering. It was good, for Katsuki, good, because he knew, bitterly, that if Izuku decided he wanted to be the No. 1 Hero, there would be nothing on this planet that would stand in his way from doing it.

The lunch bell rang not too long after, and Katsuki rolled his eyes as a group of girls all but practically dragged Izuku along with them, each coming with their homemade lunches that they'd feed him. The idiot could look straight into the eyes of thugs and bad guys and threaten them with death without breaking a sweat, yet he couldn't say no to a group of puppy-eyed bimbos thirsting after him.

"…Tch."

Katsuki didn't care. He had questions that needed answering. For starters, what had those men been saying about the cards? How had they vanished like that? Was there someone out there, with a quirk who could just make people… disappear? Just like that?

How did you fight against that?

How do you defend… against that?

_Training_, the answer came to him. _Just need to train harder._

He'd keep working hard. Harder. Harder and harder and harder.

The UA Entrance Exams were in two days.

He'd be damned if he didn't make it to the top spot.

The rest of the school day passed by in a dull, unexciting blur. Katsuki barely remembered the names or details of his own classmates, and sometimes even his own teachers. His grades would still rank amongst the top. Behind Izuku, annoyingly, but, he'd long since understood that Izuku's quirk was an utter cheat system, so he removed Izuku from the equation because no one could compete with that cheat quirk, and thus technically, Katsuki was the no. 1 student.

It was a lot of mental gymnastics, but he was happy to make every turn and every tumble.

By the day's end, however, he couldn't find the boy. Or rather, he'd seen the boy be dragged off somewhere by some girl, and they'd disappeared together.

"…Izuku, you'd better not be fucking doing what I think you're doing."

No, he was overthinking things. Izuku wasn't the same as before. He had backbone now, _spine_ now. There was no way he'd let a girl take advantage of him… he wasn't that much of a sap.

"…Goddamnit."

* * *

XXXXXX

* * *

The teachers gave him free reign to use the science lab when he wanted, which was why Midoriya had chosen the science lab as a meeting spot. In all honesty, he'd never have been able to dilute the Trigger drug without the school's science equipment. He'd been fortunate enough that no one truly seemed to care about what he was doing, especially since he'd use descriptions and words that were way beyond what a Junior High School student was capable of.

He never quite expected to be backed into a corner, here of all places.

"Do you know how hard it is to get you alone, Midoriya?"

Suzume Kanjiru was his classmate. She was a year older than him, having been held back after activating her quirk for the first time and subsequently not being able to be around people until she gained a 'moderate' level of control over it.

Despite that, her quirk still made her unable to sit next to Kacchan and/or Matsuda, one because she'd end up being incredibly irritable and annoyed, and the other because… well… it was Matsuda.

"Can I help you, Suzume-san?"

"You… you've ruined me." She said. "I – I need you to take responsibility."

Midoriya's brow raised. "Um… I don't understand –"

"In this same lab, months ago, I told you to get help." She said. "You – you were fluctuating and controlling your emotions like – like someone just flipping dials on a machine and choosing whatever they wanted to be at any moment."

_Oh_. Midoriya _did_ remember. That was the day he'd confirmed that he could perform complex surgery with no prior experience by doing surgery on a frog.

"My quirk," Suzume pointed at her chest. "You know what it is."

"It lets you feel the emotions of others?"

"**Empathy**, that's the name." She scoffed. "It's torture. I'm suppressing it, and yet, I still feel people's emotions around me as though they were my own. If I don't suppress it, I'm bombarded with emotions of hundreds of people all at once, so much pain and anger and lust and hate and –"

She stopped. "And _you_… you… you – that day, in this lab, you felt _happiness_. _I _felt happiness. I felt more happiness than I'd ever felt in my entire life. I felt more joy and bliss from you in those moments than I'd ever felt in my entire life –"

Izuku cringed. "I'm sorry."

"I don't want your apology!" she spat at him. "I – I want to feel it again. I want to feel that happiness again. You set a new standard for what happiness feels like, and it's a standard that is _impossible_ to achieve. Not without drugs. Not without you."

Izuku realized that this could end really badly, really fast. "I don't think it's a good idea."

"This is _your_ fault!" she snapped. "Yours! Yours! I don't care what you think – all I want is to feel that happiness again. Isn't that your thing? Isn't that your whole gimmick? Making people happy?"

"Suzume… I –"

"My quirk is useless, you know?" Suzume laughed. "I thought – I thought I could be a Therapist, like my mother. She said it's not possible. My quirk… it more than just lets me feel what others feel. It prevents me from forgetting the emotion. It amplifies the emotion because I'm vividly aware of it. So no, I won't be consoling anyone suffering from grief and heartbreak, because I'll be too busy bawling my own eyes out. I won't be stopping someone who's depressed from killing themselves, because I'll be too busy tying the noose around my own neck."

Izuku felt a bitterness in his stomach. "I can help you. Once I –" He bit his lip. What was he going to say? _Once I complete my plan to rid the world of quirks?_ Was he going to so openly admit it? The ramifications of such a declaration weren't light.

"Once you _what_?" she scoffed. "I – I didn't come here for your pity Midoriya. I can feel it, you know, right now. Your pity. It disgusts me. I don't care for it. I don't need it. Just – just give me what I need."

It wasn't that he didn't _want_ to, it was that he knew where that would lead. He'd essentially become her drug, and she'd become his addict. He'd heavily modified his own brain with his Precision quirk to be able to handle to extremes of pumping himself full with feel-good hormones. She, however, didn't have his brain structure. She wasn't capable of bouncing back and forth between extreme highs and extreme lows on a dime without any damage.

"Suzume-san, I can't do what you're asking me. If I do what you're asking me, you'll come back, and want more, and more, and on and on without any end in sight."

"So, what, you're saying I'll be addicted?"

"Yes."

"I don't _care_."

"But _I _do. I care about what happens to you."

She scoffed. "No you don –" She stopped her sentence midway. She stared at him, for five, long, hard seconds in which her expression was one of disbelief. "You… actually…"

Her brows narrowed immediately. "No, it's a trick. You're tricking me. Bastard. You're manipulating your emotions to make me believe that you actually care."

"Suzume-san, listen, I'm not –"

Without a single word, she started unbuttoning her uniform. Izuku's words died in his throat. "What are you doing?"

She dropped her skirt, and the gentleman in him closed his eyes. "Suzume–san, please put your clothes back on."

"All men are the same," she said. "I know it. Cause I can feel it. I was nine when I first felt lust and sexual desire fired at me. Because of my quirk, I felt it back in turn, lust, and desire – things I didn't even understand. It's all most of you can think of. I feel it everyday in class, all the time, boys just wanting nothing more than to tear girls's clothes off and stick their dicks into them. _Teachers_ aren't even immune. Most keep their boundaries and never act on it, but the desire and lust is all the same."

Izuku almost choked on a word. "_Most?_"

"Surprised?" She laughed again. "I could probably ruin some people's lives with what I know, but I don't. I'm not a bad person or a villain Midoriya. I'm just like your friend, Matsuda. You help him out, don't you? He's a walking ball of sexual desire. All he ever feels is the desire to fuck something or someone and you don't judge him, do you? So… don't judge me either for wanting this. We're just products of our shitty biology."

"You'll be addicted –"

"Everyone is addicted to something Midoriya, take it from me. _Everyone_. And many of us don't get to choose our addictions. Besides, it's not all bad to be addicted to happiness. I know you're not going to take advantage of me. If you were the type, you'd have done it already."

He was hesitating. Splitting hairs at this point. Midoriya wasn't sure what the right, ethical solution was. On one hand, she really, really needed help. And this – this wasn't any different from helping Matsuda, was it? Just like back then, when Matsuda asked him to draw that portrait, and he'd done it, because Matsuda needed his help.

_Though if she's addicted…_

No, it was fine. He wasn't scum. He wouldn't take advantage of her. He'd never do such a thing. If anything, he'd try his best to make sure she was safe, and happy.

So… did he truly have a reason to refuse?

"Just… just this once…"

Neither of them believed those words.

Taking a deep breath, Midoriya primed his own body, and told it to release _the good stuff._

**Dopamine**.

**Adrenaline. **

**Oxytocin.**

Izuku barked a large, happy laugh. He didn't understand why he'd been so bothered by this. He opened his eyes, smiling. Suzume stood before him, toes curling as her lips spread to a smile that matched and surpassed his.

"Oh, you lovely, wonderful, magnificent bastard!"

She strode over to him, grabbing his cheeks and kissing him deeply on the lips. She exhaled, letting him go, laughing and spinning as she did. Izuku couldn't help his own laughter that came from her reaction, and further amusement which came when he realized that Suzume had technically just stolen his first kiss.

He didn't actually mind, because well, she was beautiful! And did you see her smile? That smile was precious! Worth more than it's weight in gold or silver. Her happiness was a thing to behold, and who cared if it was 'artificial' happiness? As long as she was happy, he was equally happy, and that was all that mattered!

"Oh my god, I feel like I can do… anything! I feel… invincible! This – Midoriya, you're amazing! You're – oh my god!" she burst into a fit of giggles. "You're the best!"

She hopped, and for the first time, Izuku's eyes were drawn to the fact that she was still topless. And bottomless, actually, now that he noticed. A simple plain black bra held back moderate sized D-cups. An equally plain black undies were worn as well. Midoriya found it funny. It was technically his first time seeing a girl in her underwear. He'd seen a girl naked, but he didn't like to think of the murderer. Suzume was a _real_ girl. A girl he knew – a classmate.

As he pondered the thought, something changed that Midoriya's own mind wasn't aware of. Not consciously. For the most part, his _Precision_ quirk ran on autopilot and ensured that everything was working precisely, and that there was no excess or default of any sort in his mental thinking. The only time when it stopped that function, was when Midoriya chose to halt it, and overload his brain with happiness.

Now, Midoriya was fourteen. Yet, for the most part, the usual trials and tribulations of puberty that came along with all the awkward horniness and sexual development was halted by his _Precision_ quirk. It made sure Midoriya's brain wasn't like those of boys his age, and thus, unintentionally stalled his sexuality.

Under his happy-boosted mood however, _Precision_ took a back seat, and for the first time in his life, Midoriya felt a new, uncertain emotion blending in with his euphoria and happiness.

And Suzume, with her **Empathy** quirk, felt it too.

Their excited, happy laughs suddenly settled into soft, quiet, chuckles, where both teens gazed heavily into each other's eyes and continued to do so in silence.

"Suzume-san… I –"

She captured his lips before he could say another word.

And it all went down to hell from there.

* * *

XXXXX

* * *

Midoriya's thoughts were in chaos. He was panicking. Panicking. He was _fourteen_, and she was _fifteen_. What if she got pregnant? What would he say to his mother? How would she react? Would his dreams be over then? What about Suzume and her dreams? How would she handle the burden of being a teen mother? Could he pursue his goal of ending quirks from the world if he was a father who needed to take care of a child?

"Stop panicking."

Midoriya was panicking.

"Seriously, stop, I can feel all your anxiety from here and it's not helping the situation."

"Suzume-san, I swear – I d-didn't mean to – I mean, I would never take advantage – I mean –" he bit his lip. He covered his hands with his face, finding it difficult to say anything. "What have I done…?"

"It's fine."

"No – it's _not_ fine, we just – we just –" he couldn't bring himself to say the words. _Had sex._ Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to utter those words.

"Midoriya… it's fine."

He turned to stare at her. Once the euphoria had worn off, he noticed some new details. He felt there were some discrepancies. Now, seeing her idly sit on the ground, doing nothing but scrolling through her phone, Midoriya felt… confused.

"I… I don't understand."

"Midoriya… I… used you."

"…what?"

"My mother is sending me off to America next summer. A special boarding school where people like me can learn to fully master our quirks without having the burden of maintaining it in daily life. I felt… no, I wanted… to do one last thing here, at home, that I would remember before I left."

She gestured her phone over to him. There was a picture, _when did she take that?_ Of himself, shirtless in her arms.

"So I chose… to lose my virginity and have sex with the hottest guy from my Junior High Class."

"But…" Midoriya's head was spinning. "Everything you said –"

"I never directly lied," she said. "You really _did_ actually manage to set a new standard for what happiness means. And now you've set a new standard for pleasure too. I mean, I knew I was in for a treat because of your _Precision_ quirk but I don't think there's anyone in the world who can top the things you did to me in the past hour."

"Why bother with the whole charade?"

"If I'd just walked up to you and said, 'Hey Midoriya-kun, you're cute, I'm leaving Japan and I want to fuck you before I go' do you really think I'd have gotten anywhere?"

…No. To be fair, Midoriya was almost certain he'd have run for the hills. The boy felt, conflicted. Confused. His anxiety died out and was replaced with a solemn, odd feeling of…

_Betrayal?_

"I – I didn't really betray you –"

Oh, that's right. She could feel whatever he felt.

"I mean, guys do this all the time right? They lie to women, tell them sweet whisperings or whatever they want to hear just so they can sleep with them. It's – it's just that – there's… I mean… it's not like you were _in love_ with me or anything – and – and you got laid? So… shouldn't you be… I don't know… happier?"

"I…"

There were all sorts of new, complex emotions bubbling that Midoriya didn't know _what_ to feel. All he knew, was that he didn't like how he felt right now.

"I thought I was helping you…" he said. "How did you know your plan would work?"

"You're the only boy in our entire class who's never had a single sexual feeling towards anyone. I thought you were simply asexual at first but after the incident in the lab, I realized it was simply your quirk holding you back."

She gave him a sheepish look.

"So… um… I dunno, at least you should be glad to know that now? I mean… imagine if you'd gone your whole life thinking you had no sex drive."

"Stop. Stop trying to make it sound like you did me a favor."

"But I _did_ do you a favor," she said. "You're no longer a virgin, you've learned that your Quirk essentially makes you asexual, and you've learned not to always trust people like me who come at you with sob stories."

Midoriya felt a flash of something he never thought he'd feel so strongly in his entire life.

"…you're awful."

_Disgust_.

Suzume flinched. Whether it was from his uncharacteristic words or from the fact that she could no doubt feel the same disgust he felt for her, he would never know.

"Midoriya, I'm – I'm not a bad person. You – you have to understand what it's like living with a quirk like mine. My parents divorced because I accidentally realized my father's infidelity. I know dirty and disgusting secrets that I can't tell to anyone. I know if when my 'friends' feel envious of me, or hate me, or want to kill me. I go everywhere, instantly knowing what people feel about me, what they want from me. You don't know what it's like to live life like this. If I wasn't born with this quirk –"

"Your quirk is responsible for a lot… but it isn't responsible for this."

She bit her lower lip.

"Easy for you to say. You're the guy with the quirk who lets you do anything! You don't know what it's like to be me! You – you should be _grateful_! You're dense, Midoriya. Naïve. You don't have a clue as to how the real-world works. Look at you! You're this stupidly handsome guy with an amazing quirk who doesn't even realize just how high up the social ladder he is! This is how it is for the rest of us not born as lucky. This is all there is to it. People deceive each other and put on fake airs and masks just to get what they want. The only difference between you and me is that while I claw and fight my way to the top – all you have to do is smile and you'll be given an express elevator ride to the summit."

Midoriya didn't say anything else. He dressed himself, quietly, slinging his backpack across his shoulders.

"Stop it!" she yelled at him. "Stop – stop that feeling. I hate it. I hate it. Stop it! I'm not a bad person! I – you'd have done the same in my shoes! The sex was great so stop – stop feeling like… like I… did something horrible to you."

"Do you believe you didn't?"

She didn't answer. Couldn't answer. If she did, have a response, Midoriya Izuku didn't bother to wait for it.

"The lab keys are in the second drawer on the left. Please remember to lock the doors after you leave."

He closed the door shut behind him, and quietly began to make his way home.

* * *

XXXXXXX

* * *

**UA Academy**

**Day of the Entrance Exams**

Izuku took steadying breaths as he approached the entrance center. As he expected, other nominees pointed, whispered and glanced at him no matter where he went. He knew now that the reddening of cheeks were in response to his supposed physical allure and the hushed whispers were either done in admiration or envy.

_Shallow…_

The superficiality of it all amazed him. Astounded him. He hadn't chosen for himself to gain a perfectly symmetrical face and silk-like hair. His quirk did. Izuku was beginning to hate it. Despise it. Loathe it. His own reflection in the mirror seemed utterly plain to him, but apparently, if people like Suzume were to be believed, then he was a person people would give and arm and a leg to be or to be _with_.

"Oi… Izuku… you okay?"

Izuku turned his gaze to his friend. Kacchan. Yes, Kacchan was his friend. Kacchan hadn't treated him any differently ever since he'd looked different. Kacchan didn't _treat_ him any differently despite the physical differences. Yet, there was the voice at the back of Izuku's head, telling him, that it was his quirk which was responsible for this as well. If his quirk had never showed up, would his relationship with Kacchan be as it were today? Would Kacchan look at him like an equal, as he did, today?

Izuku's loathing of his own quirk grew deeper once he realized the answer to that question.

He hated his quirk.

He hated quirks.

Quirks, quirks, quirks, quirks, quirks, quirks!

That's all the world ever talked about. That was the cause of people's hatred and discrimination. That was the excuse people used to do bad deeds. That was the source of people's misery and suffering.

Izuku _hated_ quirks.

"I'm fine." Came his response. "Let's get this over with."

Kacchan gave him a strange look, but didn't question it. "We're in different testing centers. I'm heading up to mine. So… you… do your… best."

The words were enough to almost break his reality. Izuku blinked, staring at Kacchan as if he'd grown two heads.

"Kacchan… did you just… motivate me without swearing?"

The boy barked. "What? No. Fuck off. Die. Eat shit."

"Too late, Kacchan. I heard it. I don't believe it, but I heard it."

"…gaah whatever! You better ace this exam damn it Izuku! Ace it! I won't accept it if your name isn't above every other cannon fodder!"

The boy stormed off, leaving Izuku standing there, laughing softly to himself. _Kacchan is still Kacchan after all_.

His instincts told him of an incoming person, and he swayed to the side, dodging someone who toppled and crashed into the ground beside him. The brown-haired girl muttered a few words underneath her breath as the contents of her bag escaped unto the floor.

Izuku moved to help her, but hesitated. _Out of all the people here, she almost bumped into me? Is it just coincidence or was it planned? Isn't this like a cliché meeting out of Matsuda's shoujou manga?_

It was suspicious. He, was suspicious. Yet, despite the initial moment of suspicion, he found his feet moving forward anyway. He swooped up the contents of the girl's bag in one hand, and gestured out the other.

"Are you okay?"

The brunette was fair-skinned with a perpetual blush on her cheeks. Her eyes were large and round, their irises a warm brown, with thick upper eyelashes, two longer and more prominent ones protruding outwards on either side and fewer but more individually pronounced lower eyelashes. Shoulder-length and about the same color as her eyes, her hair was bobbed and curved inwards at the ends, two longer clumps taking the same shape on either side of her face, with short bangs that reached roughly a quarter of the way down her forehead.

Izuku's gaze moved to her hand as she gestured it out. "Oh thank yo –"

On the top inner segment of each of her fingers, she had a small pink pad, somewhat resembling the toe of a cat or a dog's paw. _Quirk related?_

The girl's outstretched hand touched his, and she looked at him for the first time. _Of course_, Izuku felt annoyed once he noticed how red her face had gotten. Her gaze could no longer reach his eyes. She wasn't _looking_ at him. She was seeing what she perceived as an attractive teenage boy – she was not seeing Midoriya Izuku.

"Please be careful next time to avoid tripping," he said in a formal tone of voice, "And properly clasp your bags so as to prevent the contents from spilling."

"Ah – um – y-yes, thank you –"

She stuttered, and still, yet, could barely look him in the face. Barely look him in the eyes. A newfound spark of irritation hit Midoriya._ I should invest in a mask_. He was tired of being _admired_ and not _seen_. Was he ever this superficial about looks? No. Never. He couldn't recall if there was ever a time in which he'd freeze up and barely meet someone's eyesight because… he felt they were too attractive?

He didn't say anything else to the girl as he made his way off, almost clicking his tongue. It didn't matter. Not now. Now, he needed to invest his full attention on passing the exams – that was all that mattered.

"Um... sorry, I – I didn't get your name!"

The girl called out to him. Midoriya was surprised. Was it because he was now at a distance? No – no it wasn't, the girl approached, and this time, she _did_ look him in the eyes.

"Midoriya," he said. "Midoriya Izuku."

"I-I'm Uraraka," she said, firmly. "Uraraka Ochako."

There was still an initial stutter, but Izuku noticed she was making an effort. He could admire that.

"Thank you for helping me, Midoriya-san," she bowed. "And, um…" she rose her fist in the air. "Do your best!"

Midoriya found his lips twitching into a long-lost smile.

"You too, Uraraka-san. I hope you do your very best."


	10. Anticipation

**We're baaaaack!**

**To all you manga readers, what was your reaction from the latest chapter (Chapter 290)? And to non-manga readers, what in the world are you even doing here? I mean, this story has maaaaajoooor manga spoilers. Seriously, keep reading at your own risk.**

**We're ten-chapters into this story and we're _just_ starting the UA Entrance Exams. I feel a bit like I could have done this sooner, but I really needed to set the stage and establish the universe of APN and how it's similar, yet different from canon.**

**One major thing I'd like to point out, for those still reading, is to remember the ages of these characters. Apparently, one reader completely dropped the story because he felt, "Izuku should be smart enough not to do x or be wise enough not to do y." **

**I think a lot of people have completely forgotten what it was like to be teenagers, superpowers or not. Or maybe we just had entirely different types of teenage experiences. As a teenager, I was more worried about fitting in, getting a girlfriend, getting laid and trying to get good grades than I was thinking about my far (or even immediate) future. I personally did stupid stuff because I was either dared to, or because I caved into peer pressure to do it. Point is... I didn't have the wisdom I have now to know that the shit I did was dumb. Hell, I'm sure many of you can look back to your teenage days and come up with a laundry list of stupid shit you regret doing.**

** In Shonen/anime worlds, teenagers are nigh-perfect. **

**No, really. Almost everyone in Class 1A seem to have their whole lives figured out, know their dreams and passions, are determined to do achieve it, and have no toxic traits or personalities except Bakugo with his anger and Mineta with his lecherousness.**

**And surprise, surprise! The two characters with the most visible flaws are the most hated 1A characters.**

**They're all just... too perfect to be believable. An exaggerated/over-the-top flaw would make them feel more human than none at all. Just think about how flawed Konosuba characters are, and how memorable they are for it.**

**Whenever I think 'flawed but relatable teenagers' my mind goes to the OG Archie Comics. It's titular character was a womanising maniac, his best friend was an asexual, woman-hating glutton, one of the main love interests was a spoiled, bratty princess, and the other was a girl-next-door simp. **

**Yet I'll be damned if I didn't spend my allowance buying the comics just to read more of Archie, Jughead, Betty and Veronica. **

**Then CW came with that Riverdale shit and violated my childhood with a necrotic finger.**

**ANYWAY -**

**Let's get back to the story.**

* * *

XXXXX

* * *

_The Halo Effect_, Izuku read,_ was discovered by pre-quirk era psychologist Edward Lee Thorndike. Thorndike concluded that a single quality, such as beauty, social status or age, produces a positive or negative impression that outshines everything else, and the overall effect is disproportionate._

Izuku's eyes scanned furtively through the psychosomatic illusion. The words were from the book:_ Quirk Tribalism: An Essay of the Biases of the Homo Superno, _authored by a renowned quirkless scientist Dr. Viktor Yuval.

_Beauty is the best-studied example_, Izuku read on._ Dozens of studies have shown that we automatically regard good-looking people as more pleasant, honest and intelligent. Advertising has found an ally in the halo effect, as TV ads, billboards and magazines picture smiling celebrities promoting arbitrary products to which the masses hurry to purchase. The public consensus of beauty and desirability has been the driving force behind not only the advertisement industry, but the entertainment industry as well._

"Thirty minutes remaining!" a proctor called out. Not just any proctor, but a Pro Hero proctor, Present Mic. "In exactly thirty minutes, your pens go up!"

Groans cut across the room. Muffled comments and swears hit Izuku's ears, as did the sound of pens furiously scribbling faster and faster on paper. Izuku glanced down at his own paper. His handwriting, so neat and refined one would have mistaken it for a printed computer font. He'd finished the written exam roughly ten minutes after he started, and spent the rest of his time idly perusing the pages of books he'd stored with his eidetic memory. There was no reason to leave the hall early, unlike those eager to prove themselves, Izuku didn't need to.

He had nothing to prove.

He turned his gaze back to the floating book in front of him, mentally flipping the next page.

_One disturbing observation of the halo effect in the entertainment industry can be traced to the days before possessing a quirk was a widespread phenomenon. _Izuku continued. _Movies, comic books and various means of media portrayed the Homo Superno as the enemy – as vile monsters, despicable despots, caricatures of pure evil with the atypical goal of destruction and devastation, or the corruption of female homo sapiens to breed more of their 'misshapen spawn.'_

Izuku's brow rose. _However, as the Homo Superno continued to grow in population, the homo sapiens continued to dwindle, and as it was discovered that the acquisition of a quirk did not always mean the acquisition of 'obscene' physical alterations and deviations. Instead, the Homo Superno could appear physically indistinguishable from the Homo Sapiens, yet possess abilities all the same. In light of this, the media turned once more, displaying heroic characters and individuals who were 'pure' from physical alterations as heroes and champions, whereas depicting those with visible physiological differences as aberrations, villains, monsters and anomalies._

Izuku stopped reading for a moment and took a breath. He let his eyes glance around the room. There was, to no surprise of his, a variety of different individuals taking the exam to enter the top pro hero academy in the nation. Notably, he turned his gazes to the people whose appearances were… _peculiar._

There was a blonde boy with a large, seemingly prehensile tail, which, as far as Izuku could tell, provided him with some discomfort in the generic seats which were provided and did not (_could not_) accommodate for every anatomical peculiarity.

There was a girl, far off, from his side with striking pink skin and slightly darker pink hair. Horns also seemed to be attached to her head, giving Izuku pause. Despite the difference in skin color and the horns, there were no other significant differences which would make her any more or less different from a normal person.

Izuku's lips thinned a bit at that word. _Normal_. It implied that two hands, two legs, two eyes, and a complexion in the range of pale to dark brown was the atypical 'norm' of what a human was supposed to be.

Muttering softly under his breath, he turned his attention back to his book.

_Kobayashi and Halliday argued that the origins of the Quirk Purism movement began the moment individuals were born with characteristics deemed 'non-human' and is an unintended side-effect of years of tribalistic instincts deeply rooted in the human psyche. Race and color, which were once the defining factor for segregation were considered irrelevant in the face of this new unknown:_

_Did it look human?_

_Did it look more human than beast?_

_In several regions of Africa and the Middle-East, if the answers to those questions were found to be negative, it meant a forfeiture of fundamental human rights. Missionaries and tourists in areas of Western Africa reported that nearly 82% of children born with physiological differences such as an animal tail or head were either abandoned at birth by their parents, or killed before they reached the age of three._

Izuku closed the book. With a grimace on his face, he dispelled the psychosomatic illusion. He knew things were bad, but he had underestimated how bad it was. Knowledge was a curse. Of course, Japan was one of the more developed and open-minded nations in the world, so individuals like the girl with pink skin and the boy with the tail could live without (much) discrimination.

It disturbed him, that thought. That realization, that if they'd been born in a different country, in a less forgiving country, they would likely be dead.

_Quirk Purism,_ they called it. The belief that anything that didn't look human shouldn't be considered human. It had a significant number of backers, with some using the _Quirk Singularity _theory to argue that if individuals with non-human physiological and anatomical traits were allowed to have children, in the future, it was possible for a 'human' to be born that would have no human traits whatsoever.

The infamous _Centaur Argument_ was well known in academic communities. It stemmed from a joke that two centaurs had a child, but the child ended up being a human because it inherited the human half from both parents. In that case, was the child a centaur, or a human?

"Twenty minutes!" Present Mic's voice echoed. "Twenty minutes remaining!"

Izuku glanced down at his own paper, his own answers. The written exam consisted of basic tests of mathematics, language, science, civics and history. There was a portion which consisted of true or false questions about heroics and civilian level quirk law. Finally, there was the bit filled with ethics and morality questions which were painfully obvious as to what the 'right' answer was in all situations.

All in all, Izuku was somewhat disappointed. The written exam was ridiculously easy, especially considering this was the famed UA Academy – the institution responsible for producing a significant number of top ten heroes. People all over the world travelled to Japan with the desire to learn from the best-of-the-best.

_Best-of-the-best?_

Izuku's lips twitched uncomfortably at that. He knew Pro Heroes. Even in the days before he got his quirk, he'd kept a diligent journal of the strengths and weaknesses of majority of the Pro Heroes that operated in and around the country. If he were to be honest, the only Pro Hero who was beyond comprehension was All Might. Every other person had an exploitable weakness. From Endeavor to Mirko to Best Jeanist, Izuku knew exactly how their quirks worked, and exactly how one would go about besting them.

The problem was, if he, a middle-school teenager with roughly above-average intellect could so easily gleam their strengths and weaknesses from watching and following their exploits, what was to stop a dangerous villain with inhuman intellect from doing the same?

_The Void._

Izuku shuddered as he remembered that event. The encounter with those thugs. The idea that there was some sort of teleporting villain out there didn't sit well with him. Yet, according to the laws of the country, he was to do nothing but leave it to the authorities lest he be branded a vigilante and face legal repercussions.

"Ten minutes!"

Izuku neatly organized his answer sheets, gathered his writing tools, and stood once the call was made. He drew a few gazes whenever he did something, or did _anything_, but he was trying not to let it bother him. He walked to the back of the class, handing over the papers to the proctor, Present Mic.

"Finally decided you were tired of sitting around?"

"I had to make sure everything was done precisely."

Present Mic muffled a laugh. "I'll bet." He collected Izuku's papers without much fanfare, before gesturing his finger to the door. "The practical exam starts in seventy minutes. _Maybe_ that'll be enough to give you a real challenge."

"I… what?"

"You finished the written exam in under what, fifteen, twenty minutes?"

"Ten."

"Ten minutes," Present Mic sighed. "Ten minutes he says."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no – it's –" Present Mic pinched the bridge of his nose. He muttered something underneath his breath about _difficult, principal_, and _prodigy_ which Izuku didn't care enough to gleam the finer details. "Just… get going."

Izuku did as he was told. Exiting the room, he found other examinees loitering about, awkwardly shuffling back and forth, or huddled in groups, attempting to make conversation. Numerous pairs of eyes focused on him as he emerged, and the whispers came.

Izuku was getting tired of the whispers.

_MUFFLE._

With but a mental command, the soundwaves being sent to his ears distorted. Noise was all he heard now. Muffled, incoherent noise which neither bothered him nor affected him. _Have to invest in a mask for my hero outfit_. He already had some ideas in mind for that eventuality.

_Now…_ Izuku took a seat a bit far off from most other examinees. Taking deep breaths, he searched his mental database of memorized books for something else to read while he passed the time.

_I wonder how Kacchan is doing?_ Surely his friend should have also finished the written exam. Whereas Izuku considered it rather simple, he wondered if Kacchan would have any problems. _Well… there's always the practical._

Leaning back against the chair, Izuku hummed to himself, and once more, began to read.

* * *

XXXXXX

* * *

_The fuck is this shit?_

"Examinee number thirty-seven! Kindly refrain from using your quirk!"

"Hai, yeah, whatever."

Katsuki Bakugo stared at the questions and his eyes twitched. He settled down the minor sparks flying from his palms in favor of rubbing his hands through his hair. _What the fuck?_ _What the fuck? Are they fucking insane? _

This wasn't middle-school level. Nothing in front of him was middle-school level. The mathematics was probably high-school second year stuff, the language proficiency had references to hiragana and katakana that he was only vaguely familiar with, and that wasn't even getting into the specifics of bloody fucking quirk registration laws, QETA scores and classifications, infamous civil disputes and trick question after trick question.

The only fucking way anyone would ace this written exam was if they were either an egghead with nose buried deep in books, or went out of their bloody way to study shit that they didn't even teach yet in schools.

_Just look at this shit!_ Bakugo stared at one of the questions.

_Which of the following quirk classification systems was brought into existence following the capture and arrest of the S-Class villain Show Boy? _

_A. The Quirk Existence Threat Analysis (QETA)_

_B. The Mental Aptitude Quirk Examination (MAQE]_

_C. The Virtual Quirk Ubiquity Assessment (VQUA)_

_D. All of the Above_

_E. None of the Above_

Katsuki ground his teeth. _Who the fuck was Show Boy? _He didn't pay attention to the names of villains or the shit they did. So long as they got fucking stopped in the end, what did it matter? They were beaten, so they were weak, and that was that.

_Izuku would probably fucking know the answer…_ Of course he would. Shit like this was the nerd's bread and butter. The nerd would probably say something about how _QETA_ was a classification system that came to be after some jerkass nearly wiped out humanity with a bullshit powerful quirk, and _MAQE_ was basically the quirk-test for eggheads to decide who was the eggheadiest of them all.

Katsuki blinked.

_Wait a minute…_

Now that he remembered… Izuku _had_ talked about this. _MAQE_ was a test taken by people with intelligence-enhancing or precognitive quirks. _Yeah, didn't Sir Nighteye take the exam?_ Katsuki was certain. All Might's sidekick, Sir Nighteye, had been one of the people to get ridiculously high _MAQE _scores which was what cemented him as one of the best, if not _the_ best precog in Japan.

Izuku mentioned something about that girl he liked taking the test too. Saika? Meiko? Whatever.

Katsuki squeezed his face as he stared at the paper. _Show Boy… did Izuku ever mention anything about him?_

The answer smacked him in the face, not because of Izuku, but because of that perv Matsuda. _Show Boy_ was also a perv, a perv with a quirk which let him enter into TV shows, home videos, movies and games and mess around with it. A massive perv who got off on being watched do perv shit, so he'd grope and fuck actresses on the big screen and mess around with gamers and otaku by cucking them and fucking their 2D 'waifus.'

…_that perv Matsuda was always going on and on about how he wished he could have that power._

Katsuki stared at the options again. Slowly, he ticked option C. It had to be the right answer. _VQUA_ was a weird-ass test that was done to make sure there wouldn't be another Show Boy. Quirks which let people access virtual space in the first place were rare as fuck, but ever so often, they'd show up.

Show Boy was given a classification of S-Rank, QETA 5, because his power apparently did some weird ass shit like altering causality. If the perv were to enter a historical documentary made years ago, and do some-shit like killing a president in it, all of human history would change as every video of that incident would have him killing that president, and so, he would have _actually_ killed that president.

Of course, Show Boy was an idiot and a perv, so all he ever used his powers to do was to fuck women that he didn't have the balls to fuck in real life.

Katsuki snorted. _Horny idiots are the worst type of idiots._

Calming his mind, Katsuki reexamined the exam questions once more. From top to bottom, every time he came across a question that he wasn't sure of the answer to, he'd try and remember if Izuku had ever mentioned anything about it.

_What… the… hell?_

The method worked disturbingly well.

If there was something he didn't know, he'd ask _Did Izuku ever mention anything about this?_ And every, fucking, time, the answer was: _yes, he had._

…_This is fucking creepy._

Katsuki wasn't exactly one to believe in coincidences, and if he didn't know better, he could have _sworn_ that the entire written section of the hero exam was just filled with shit that Izuku casually talked about every day. Izuku wouldn't even look at this shit as an exam, he'd probably just feel he was having an afternoon conversation over a cup of fucking tea.

Meanwhile, all around him, Katsuki could see people sweating bullets. People were swearing, cursing, staring up into the ceiling with emptiness in their eyes, and there was even one girl, in the corner, who'd simply started sobbing.

"I can't take it anymore!"

A student with a weird ass haircut and big muscly arms stood up, panting.

"Examinee number forty-three," The proctor said. "Kindly refrain from disturbing your fellow examinees."

"This," the boy slammed his hand on his paper. "This is bullshit! What's up with these questions? Who the hell knows any of this shit? This exam is rigged! Fucking rigged!"

"Examinee forty-three –"

"You guys all see it too, right? Come on! I – I'm the top of my class in my middle-school and even I can't answer most of these! There's no way this isn't rigged!"

"Examinee!"

The sound of a whip cracking brought complete silence to the hall. Footsteps clacked against the ground, _boots_, and Katsuki found his gaze following the rest of the hall to the door where the noises came from.

_The fuck?_

She was tall for a woman. Tall and fucking stacked with sky blue eyes, and long-as-shit eyelashes. She had spiky dark purple hair made up of layers, and the longest ones reached way down below her waist. There was a small mole under her left eye and her nails were painted red.

Katsuki was sure no one was looking at her face though.

_Who the fuck invited the dominatrix?_

Her hero costume, if he could even call it that, was a black leather breastless leotard over a white bodysuit. The outfit clung to her breasts, body, and legs so fucking desperately that it might not have been there. Then for fucking overkill, she had translucent black thigh-high stockings connected to a red utility belt decorated with gold studs around her hips, a matching pentagonal buckle in its center, and black knee-boots.

The small, red mask outlining her eyes and handcuff on each wrist was probably what got many people in the room turning red. Or maybe it was the fucking flogger-style whip she held in her hands, or the way her hips swayed as she walked.

"Oh? Does the little-wittle baby have a problem?"

The examinee who'd been shouting suddenly clammed up. Katsuki snorted as he watched the buffoon's eyes go to the woman's breast, and his jaw hang slightly open.

"Aren't you the naughty little one? My eyes are up _here_."

His gaze snapped up immediately. "Um – I – er –"

"Do you have a problem with the exam?"

"Um… it's…" the boy swallowed. "Hard."

The woman smiled. "Do you have a problem… with _hard _things_?_"

Katsuki could have sworn that room's temperature went up by a hundred-fucking-degrees.

"Ah – I mean… n-no – I like – like – um… hard things."

The sniggers in the exam hall made the idiot's face resemble a fat tomato.

"Then be a good little boy, sit down, and maybe things will get a little _easier._"

"Y-yes ma'am."

Whatever complaint captain-horny-face had was shot down as the idiot had a stupid, goofy grin on his face as he continued his papers. Katsuki scoffed loudly. The action brought the dominatrix's gaze swirling to him.

"Do you also have a problem, little boy?"

"Save that shit for your fucking clients, I'm not buying it."

"Oh?" The woman licked her lips.

Katsuki ignored the goosebumps that ran down his spine. He jerked his finger to the paper. "That idiot over there wasn't wrong. What's up with these fucking questions? Unless you went to some preppy ass middle-school with overeager teachers, you wouldn't know any of this shit."

She smiled at him. "You're applying to UA, little boy. Did you really think it would be an easy feat, to enter the top Hero Academy in all of East Asia?"

The woman moved forward, and pressed her finger against his sheets.

"Have you heard of Harvard, boy? Of Kyoto University?" She tapped on the desk. "It is no exaggeration to call UA the Harvard of Hero Academies. We only accept the _best_ here. Only the _la crème de la crème_ manage to make it in, and even then, only the very best of those manage to graduate."

Her finger rose from his papers. Her gaze, left him, and went round the hall.

"If you find yourself unable to answer these questions or do this much… them I'm sorry to say little ones, UA is not the place for you."

She smiled.

"But don't be discouraged. UA will always recognize those with determination and unyielding will. So perhaps… there may still be hope for you all."

The dominatrix walked towards the door.

"Or perhaps not."

The woman left the hall. Katsuki could almost taste the silence. Second later, a girl stood. The one who'd been sobbing her eyes out. Dejectedly, she grabbed her papers and turned them in to the proctor. The proctor said nothing. And, just like that, the cascade of students leaving the hall began.

_The fuck…?_

Katsuki was starting to understand just what type of place UA Academy was. It was, at its heart, no different from everywhere else and everything else in society. Those with power and merit rose to the top, and those without sunk to the bottom. The society of heroes was a dog-eat-dog world, but many were fucking deceived into thinking it was all glamor and fame and glory.

It was for the best, that they discouraged those who didn't have the guts or grit to do it.

Katsuki scoffed at them. He paid them no mind, no heed, as he turned back to his exam sheet.

_I'm going to be the number one hero. If they think this is enough to stop me, they don't know who they're fucking dealing with._

Now, what did Izuku say again about Quirk Restriction Law?

* * *

XXXXX

* * *

Shota Aizawa was sleepy. He muffled his yawn behind his special bindings and reached into his satchel for his eyedrops. Raising his head high and pulling back his eyelid with his right hand, he squeezed the bottle. Nothing came. _…I'm out already?_

Today was already shaping up to be an even worse day. Sitting in the observation room, he muffled his second yawn, only to blink once a cup was handed in his direction.

"Coffee?"

He glanced at the woman. She rolled her eyes. "I didn't put anything in it. Really, Eraser, is it so hard to have a little trust?"

He politely reached out for the cup. First, he inhaled the scent. Inhaling the scent always made the caffeine kick in faster. Only after he saw her sip her own coffee from the corner of his eyes did he sip his as well.

"Has anyone told you you're the most paranoid person in this school?"

He let his shoulders rise and fall. "Did Nezu tell you to cut down those students?"

"…and annoyingly nosy too." The woman sighed. "A shame, Eraser. You're almost my type you know?"

"What is he thinking?"

The woman crossed her arms. "We both know we'll never be able to answer that question."

Admittedly, it was true. No one ever knew what Nezu was thinking. Probably not even Nezu himself. Still, Aizawa sipped from his coffee, and glanced to the cameras. The room the woman had been in less than a few minutes ago was all but empty save for ten or so people now. Whether or not her words had been the trigger, or whether or not it was the considerably more difficult exam, or a mix of both factors, Aizawa couldn't tell.

"At this rate, we might have less than thirty students admitted."

Aizawa shook his head. "There's still the practical exam."

"That's what worries me."

He stared at the woman. Slowly, he rose a brow.

"You didn't know?"

"I wasn't told."

"There was a memo – we had a meeting –"

"I was on call. The Hospital needed me."

The woman sighed. "Nezu completely changed the contents of the practical exam."

"Why?"

"Something about how destroying robots is a poor method to test people's heroic ability." The woman shook her head, her hand going up to her face. "He said it only really tested their combat prowess, and this is a _hero _school, not a _combat_ school."

Aizawa agreed. He remembered his own academy days, and how he'd scored abysmally on the practical examination because his quirk did nothing against his mechanical opponents. He still managed to make it into UA, simply because his written scores were rather high and his quirk was considered too invaluable to not be in the hands of hero society. For others who weren't as lucky, they would never see the hallways of the academy.

"Not that I'm complaining," the woman crossed her arms. "My quirk puts people to sleep. When I took the practical exam, I was a sitting duck who couldn't do anything. It's just…"

"Why now?" Aizawa said.

Midnight nodded. "…the UA entrance exams have been roughly unchanged for almost three decades. Do you think the Principal got permission from the school board before doing any of this?"

Aizawa doubted it. "It's not like they can refuse him. Remember what happened with Dare Man?"

She grimaced. "A lot of heroes retired that day."

"The Board learned the hard way that things quickly go sour if you don't listen to Nezu."

His pager went off. The silent buzzing noise echoed in the room, and Aizawa let himself sigh again. He gestured his half-finished coffee cup to Midnight, seeing her smile awkwardly. "Duty calls?"

"Hopefully it's nothing major."

She nodded. "I'll record the highlights of the exams for you."

"…thanks. I'll be off."

Leaving the testing center, Aizawa took the paths with the least number of people. He avoided open spaces, large corridors and hallways, and places with exposed windows. Present Mic, Vlad and Midnight all joked that he deserved the title of the most paranoid hero, but none of them had survived thirty-seven assassination attempts, so it was easy to joke.

He made his way out of the testing center, his eyes darting back and forth around, the hair on his skin on edge, and his posture coiled, ready to spring into action. Slowly, he began to count. _Three… two… one…_

Nothing. No one seemed to be gunning for him yet. _Doesn't mean they won't be gunning for me later…_

Cars and public transportation were both out of the question, so Aizawa owned a bike. Parking his bike in any location whatsoever which was either unsupervised or open was essentially asking for it to be tampered with or stolen.

The pro-hero made his way over to a bunch of nondescript looking bushes beside the building moving them aside to unveil a hidden metal hatch, painted the same color as the surrounding environments. He reached into his back pocket, emerged the key, and unlocked it. Opening the hatch, he emerged a simple black briefcase and a plain black helmet.

He closed the hatch and locked it once more, sighing as he remembered how much of a hassle it was to get several of these hidden hatches placed around the city.

With a push of a button, the briefcase opened, and expanded, and began to shift and morph as more and more mechanical parts unfolding itself from within like an origami puzzle out of a jack-in-the-box.

The motorbike expanded in full, and Aizawa placed his helmet on. He took his seat, his hands gripping against the throttle. The machine lit up with lights, the engine sparked to life, a small screen appeared before him with a feminine artificial voice:

_Biometric Data confirmed. Welcome, Eraserhead._

He exhaled, softly.

_Would you like to enable Satellite Tracking for the least densely populated routes?_

"Enable."

_Satellite tracking enabled._

The ride to Musutafu General Hospital was relatively calm. He stuck to unusual roads, avoided major highways and zipped past traffic. The bike was given to him as a birthday gift by Nezu, built by Power Loader and came with all the essential features such as live GPS feed, emergency aid button, auto-drive and emergency escape features, a first aid kit, spare goggles and a backup supply of his eye-drops.

Aizawa knew the gift was more or less bribe, and Nezu's way of apologizing for the Dare Man incident. He didn't mind. The bike had saved his life on more than one occasion already. The most recent case was just two months ago, when somehow, one of the religious fanatics of the Followers of One managed to find out where he lived.

They'd spewed the usual nonsense at him: "Heretic!" "False Prophet!" "Bringer of Darkness!"

Fortunately, they'd been easy enough to restrain and stop. Unfortunately, they'd been psychotic enough to strap bombs to themselves. They all had physical quirks which would allow them to survive an explosion with ease, and they relied on that fact.

His home was blown to bits and he barely made it out. Had it not been for the bike's emergency-aid option sending out a distress call, and the emergency-escape feature scooping him towards the nearest hospital, he would already be dead.

The pro-hero swerved a hard right down into an alleyway, dodging obstacles and objects with ease. _Maybe I should give it a name… like Midnight suggested?_ He felt the woman was only interested in his bike because she liked thrills. She'd been getting closer to him more recently, which made Aizawa suspicious.

Many high-ranking members of the cult of the Followers of One appeared like normal people. Many of them went on with their daily lives and businesses, wore suits and had lunches and dinners that made them indistinguishable from regular people. Not everyone wore their religious beliefs on their sleeves.

Aizawa wasn't naïve enough to believe that all of the Pro-Heroes or teachers he knew were above being a Follower.

He was aware how lucky he was to live as long as he had. Most people like him, born with a quirk which could disable or hinder other quirks, barely made it to adulthood. The Followers hunted them down with the same ridiculous zeal that they used to praise their so-called master.

At first, Aizawa thought the reason they had it out for people like him was because they felt no one should have the ability to 'take away' quirks except for their prophet. He wasn't wrong, except, it went deeper. Supposedly, in their holy books, there was some sort of prophecy about someone who would arise and 'plunge the world into darkness' by 'snuffing the illumination from mankind.'

They said the 'One' was a Prophet, and he had precognitive abilities. So his Followers feared and believed that 'darkness' was coming, and anyone who would appear in the slightest to be able to 'bring darkness' i.e. 'stop quirks,' was a threat and a danger.

Shota Aizawa was just unfortunate enough to be number one on their shitlist.

The hospital came in sight soon enough, and Aizawa stopped a fair distance away, reverting his bike to briefcase form, and carrying it his hands. He made his way to the rooftops of an adjacent building, moving into position at a location that would give him full and complete visibility of the building.

He swung his googles down, switching it from 'attack mode' with the visible lines which hid his gaze and let him stop quirks, to 'scan mode' which enabled him to examine the area properly. Heat signatures, suspicious movements and sounds… Aizawa wasn't above noticing the tiniest thing he believed was out of place.

_It's not paranoia if they're actually out to get you._

His pager buzzed a second time.

The overly cautious pro-hero sprung to action. Rooftop to rooftop, he moved, his physical agility and prowess for an unenhanced human was likely the highest amongst all of the Pro-Heroes with no physical enhancing quirks in Japan. The reason being, for him, being fast and agile was a matter of daily survival than it was an issue of job performance.

He landed at the rooftop of the hospital, the helipad, and walked a short distance, before glancing at the person opposite him.

"Lovely weather we're having."

The man opposite him nodded. "Perfect to sleep in."

Aizawa was prudent. "Almost makes me miss my sleeping bags."

"Really Aizawa?"

He said nothing. Instead, he slowly reached for his bindings.

The man sighed. "And it makes me miss my Mahou Shoujo body pillow."

Aizawa relaxed, just minutely.

"Do we really have to do this every time?"

"Do you have to ask every time?"

The man crossed his arms. "If I was an imposter, you'd use your quirk and find out in seconds."

"Tsukauchi, has it never occurred to you that people can impersonate others without using a quirk?"

Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi, commonly known as True Man, uncrossed his arms. "Like what, with make-up and a mask?"

"Hmm." Aizawa nodded. He jerked his eyes around him, observing his surroundings. "I was in the middle of the UA Entrance Exams. Is this going to take long?"

Tsukauchi grimaced. "That depends."

"Depends on what?"

"On whether or not you've eaten lunch."

Aizawa sighed. "One of _those_ huh."

They made their way down from the roof. Tsukauchi led the way, because Aizawa was uncomfortable with people walking behind him, even if it was people he knew. Down the stairs they descended, until they got the hospital's top floor.

Once they did, and once they were within the vicinity of nurses and staff, Aizawa subconsciously adjusted his facial bindings to be higher.

"Ah, Eraserhead-san! Thank you for last time! Morano-kun is doing much better!"

Aizawa merely nodded at the nurse.

"Eraserhead-sama, thanks for last week! Saki-chan still misses you!"

Aizawa offered another small nod.

"Eraserhead, oh thank god you're here –"

Tsukauchi cleared his throat to the nurse. "Sorry, ma'am. Eraserhead is here on official police business."

The nurse, short, with pink her, bit her lip and turned to him. "Please, this – this will only take a second! The case – it's – it's bad."

"Ma'am –"

"_Please_, I'm begging you. She's such a sweet girl and she's been in so much pain! If, if you could just – just for a minute –"

"Ma'am, I'm sorry but –"

"It's fine Tsukauchi."

Tsukauchi's gave him a glance. "Eraserhead –"

The Pro-Hero turned to the nurse. "Where is the patient?"

"She – she's just down this hall."

Even as they walked, and as he followed the nurse, he found himself asking, _why do you do it?_ It was entirely possible this was a setup, a trap. His instincts told him that this was the sort of rookie mistake that got people killed. His desire to help people whenever he could and however he could, would eventually end his own life.

Yet, he did it anyway.

He reached the room. The girl was young. Blood-red hair and in a hospital gown, he estimated she was maybe six, seven. She hooked up to several machines, her eyes were squeezed shut but she wasn't asleep. She squirmed on the bed, shook, jerked, and groaned.

"Yumi, Yumi-chan," the nurse moved forward and whispered. "It's okay Yumi-chan, I've brought someone who's going to help you."

Aizawa held his breath a bit. He closed his eyes.

Then, he snapped them open.

The girl stopped squirming. Her blood-red hair faded in color to a pale white. Her eyes, squeezed shut, lessened, and lightened, until softly, they rested. Her chest went up and down at a steady, gentle pace.

The nurse kissed the girl on the forehead, before turning to him. She bowed, as best she could. "Thank you. Thank you so much. Yumi-chan hasn't been able to sleep for days… she hasn't been able to rest at all."

Tsukauchi pressed his lips together. "Her quirk?"

The nurse nodded. "She recently awakened it. They termed it Hot Body. It allows her to superheat her body liquids… but…" the Nurse sighed. "It comes with a downside. She's always running a fever. Her body's average temperature is fifty degrees Celsius. We kept her submerged in a special cold bath at first… but once she came out, it only got worse. We figure over time she might learn how to control it or get adapted to the heat but…"

"She's just a child."

The nurse bit her lip. "She doesn't know how to control it yet. If she ever gets too upset… we're afraid she might boil herself from the inside out."

"She's not immune to being hurt by her quirk?"

The nurse shook her head. "It would be different if it was a mutant-type quirk. Her ability is the same as a boy who learned to shoot fire. Just because he can shoot fire, doesn't make him immune to it. She does have _some_ level of resistance to the heat, but it only goes so far."

Tsukauchi frowned. "Is this common? Children accidentally hurting themselves with their quirks?"

"More than you know."

The words slipped from Aizawa's mouth before he could stop it. Tsukauchi gave him a strange look.

"It's why we're always glad to have Eraser-sama," the nurse grabbed his hands, and smiled at him. "If it weren't for him, coming in every other day, helping us with children whose quirks hurt them or who have wild and dangerous abilities… we don't know how much of this we'd be able to handle."

The physical contact was disarming. As was the nurse's true, earnest smile.

"Eraser-sama, if there's anything you ever need, anything at all, please, don't ever hesitate to ask."

Aizawa swallowed. He felt more out of his comfort zone than he cared to admit. "I don't do this for gratitude."

"I know," the woman smiled. "And that's what makes you even more of an amazing person, Eraser-sama."

He cleared his throat. There weren't any words he had that he could say. It unnerved him, the adoration in her eyes. The devotion. Unnerved him. Even years after becoming a Pro-Hero, Aizawa still did not handle spotlight effectively. It was one of the reasons he chose to be an underground hero from at the start.

Fortunately, Tsukauchi was there to save him.

"Eraserhead, we should get going."

"Right."

He glanced over at the young girl, _Yumi_.

"…I'll try to bring something for her, when next I'm here."

"Thank you, Eraser-sama."

They left the room. Tsukauchi led. Aizawa followed. Thankfully, the police detective wasn't the sort of person to ask nosy or impertinent questions. Aizawa needed the silence. He needed the silence almost as much as he needed the sleep. He'd been sleeping at the school for the past two months since his house got blown up. The sleep was never comforting.

"Hope you had a light lunch."

The door to the room opened, and at the sight of the groaning ball of flesh and metal, Aizawa knew he would not be sleeping this night.

* * *

XXXX

* * *

"The practical exam will begin in twenty minutes!" Present Mic shouted. "Everyone head over to Hall C for the practical exams. Twenty minutes!"

_Finally_. Izuku was more than ready to complete the final step of the UA Entrance Exams. A part of him wondered what the practical exam would entail, seeing as how the written exam had been easy. He truly hoped it wasn't going to be something as simple as a combat test…

"Um, excuse me…"

Izuku felt something grab the legs of his pants. He stared down, finding what appeared to be a grade-schooler with black hair tugging at him.

"C-could you s-show m-me to the bathroom? I – I need to pee."

It was a rare event for Izuku to find himself surprised. "How… did you get here?"

"…I really need to pee."

Izuku stared. _I'm supposed to believe, somehow, a grade-schooler managed to make their way into this exams unknown and undetected by anyone, and she just happened to need my assistance?_

"…Okay."

_Is this part of the practical exam?_ It had to be. It made very little sense otherwise if it wasn't. Izuku took the girl's hand, fortunately his memory was flawless enough for him to remember were the bathrooms were.

"Um, what's your name little girl?"

"Yuno."

Izuku smiled. "Yuno. That's a nice name. How did you manage to get here, Yuno?"

"Bathroom."

Izuku realized he wouldn't be getting much out of Yuno. Still, if this _was_ part of the practical exam, it was a rather weird way of conducting the exam. Not unless they had a small army of grade-schoolers just waiting to be used or something.

He made his way to the restrooms with little fanfare, before pointing to the female restroom. "There it is."

"Help me."

Izuku tilted his head. "Help… you?"

"Can't reach seats."

Izuku hesitated. "Ah, I'm not really allowed to go in." Unless he used the male bathroom, in which case, he didn't want to explain to anyone who'd come in as to what he was doing with a toddler in the toilet.

If this was a test, they were _really_ trying to make him uncomfortable.

"Need help."

_Alright… it's fine… I have sharp senses. Best case scenario, I'll be able to hear if anyone is coming…_

Gently taking Yuno by the arm, he pushed open the door to the female toilet, quickly checking every single stall to make sure it was empty.

"Alright Yuno, I think it's –"

His senses blurred to life. His hand extended beyond his conscious control, smacking away the knife aimed for his back. Something lunged at him. He caught it, spun it around, and pinned it to the ground in a single heartbeat.

Ash blonde hair and yellow eyes stared at him, with an all too familiar smile.

"_Mi-do-ri-ya-kun~!"_

Izuku grit his teeth. _"Himiko."_

"I've missed you Midoriya-kun," she panted. "I've missed you! _I'vemissedyouI'vemissedyouI'vemissedyou –_"

Izuku's brain was running on overload. "_What are you doing_ _here_?"

"You forgot about me," Himiko said. "After everything you did to me Midoriya-kun." She wrapped her legs around him, biting down on her lips. "You made me feel things I've never felt before."

"Stop – stop making it sound like we –" Izuku took a breath. "Himiko, why are you here?"

"_You_." She said. "I want to taste you again I-zu-ku~!"

"I gave you enough of my blood to last a _year._"

"A villain rampaged and the power got cut," Himiko said. "And all of Izuku's tasty, tasty blood got ruined." Her expression turned fierce. "I killed the bastard. Killed him, and killed him… killed him for ruining Izuku's blood."

"Then I'll give you some of my blood. Just, not here, not –" Izuku's brain blanked. "How… how did you even manage to _get_ here?"

"I can go anywhere," she grinned. "Anywhere to get more of Izuku's taste."

_This_, Izuku realized, t_his is my fault_. He never handed the girl over to the authorities, even though he knew he should have. He used her as a guinea-pig to improve and refine the trigger-drug, despite the ethical wrongness. He gave her his blood, enhanced the taste, texture and make-up just so she would never, ever, have to kill someone else ever again for their blood.

At the time, he'd felt it was the best option. He just hadn't expected her to get so addicted to his blood. It was why he'd been wary about Suzume being addicted to his 'happiness.' He managed to work out a place for her to stay with a freezer of his blood, a TV, and cash he earned from auctioning porn drawings of female heroes online wired to her for her needs.

Some part of his mind had believed it would be enough. Enough for her to be satisfied. Enough to ebb at the guilt he felt from what he'd done. So, for the most part, he forgot about her. _Willingly_ did his best to avoid thinking about her.

Clearly, she had not forgotten about him.

"I'll give you my blood, but you need to _leave_. I'm in the middle of my exams and –"

_Footsteps._

He heard it. He was absolutely certain he heard it. "Hide!" he hissed. He grabbed her off the ground and shoved them both into a stall. He locked it shut and put himself at an angle that'd prevent his feet from being seen. The doors swung open not a second sooner.

"_I-zu-ku~"_

He slammed his hands over her mouth. She moaned. _Moaned!_

"Um… hello, is someone there?"

_Think, Izuku… think!_

He remembered. When he'd first unlocked his quirk, how he used it to mimic people. Clearing his throat and willing **Precision** to guide his vocal chords, he opened his lips.

"Y-yeah!" Himiko's voice emerged from his lips with perfect enunciation. The girl stared at him. For once, there was clear focus in her eyes. A clarity he'd never seen. "I'm just… um… nervous, about the exams, but I'll be fine!"

"Oh. Do you need any help?"

Himiko bit his hands. Izuku grimaced. "No! Thank you… I'm – I'm fine!"

Blood dripped from his fingers. The girl, the shameless girl, started to suck on it. Her cheeks flushed read and she moaned again.

"Ah, haha – just – ah, don't mind me!"

"Alright."

The girl on the outside of the stall, _whoever_ it was, entered the stall directly beside theirs. Izuku glared at Himiko, who was so enthralled sucking the blood from his fingers that she seemed to care very little for their situation.

_It's fine… fine… I can work this – _

His hand squeezed something. Himiko gasped. Izuku suddenly became aware that the girl in front of him was naked.

…_Oh god why._

Naked and sucking on his fingers, while they were hiding in a bathroom stall. Izuku almost wanted to laugh. It felt like he'd been transported into a scene ripped straight out of Matsuda's erotic manga.

Except, if he was caught here, with her, doing this, it would be the end. Any admission into UA would be out of the question, not to think about the eternal ramifications it'd have on his reputation.

"_More –"_

The girl was going for his wrist. Izuku cursed, pushing her unto the toilet seat and pinning both her hands to the wall.

"_Izuku…"_ Himiko gasped. "_Y-your knee –"_

He knew where his knee was. In between her legs. Things had gone from bad to _worse_ in a matter of seconds, and if anyone was to come upon this scene, they'd only imagine the worst. _If there is a Kami up above… please save me from this development!_

The sound of a toilet flushing hit Izuku's ears. As did the sound of the stall door beside them opening. He waited, until he heard the bathroom door open, waited another few seconds after he heard it close.

He leaped away from Himiko as quickly as he could, opening the stall door and backing away from her. She didn't lunge at him, this time. Izuku was surprised.

She…is she… blushing?

"Um… Izuku… you're…"

She pointed. His gaze followed her finger, down to his groin. He felt the embarrassment before he squashed it down.

"This is… I mean…"

"I didn't know Izuku-kun liked me _that _much."

"It's just – it's a normal physiological reaction."

"…hey, Izuku-kun… you want to fuck?"

He spluttered. "What?"'

"You did a lot of things to me… but… you never touched me that way, even when you had the chance." She crossed her legs. "I thought Izuku-kun swung for the other team."

"I'm not that type of person."

She stared at him. Her brows furrowed. "Who did it?"

"What are you talking about now?"

"Someone messed with you. Who's the bitch? I'll find her. I'll kill her. I'll kill her I swear it."

"Himiko, just… stop."

"Tell me."

"You need to leave Himiko."

She crossed her arms. "If I leave… will you tell me?"

"…Yes."

"And you'll let me drink you as much as I want?"

Izuku was exasperated. "Yes, yes, but just – leave, and _please_ don't get caught."

Himiko smiled at him. She did a twirl, and a cartwheel, landing in front of him before grinning. Slowly, he watched her transform into a completely different person. Judging from the clothes and ID, she'd transformed into a janitor.

"I'll see you around, Izuku-kun."

Once upon a time, Himiko Toga needed to drink the blood of people in order to transform into them. It was the major requirement. Now, she didn't need to drink anything. Now, all she needed, was to have licked something that the person had touched, or to lick the person themselves, and she could freely transform into them for however long she wanted.

Himiko Toga was Izuku's greatest success.

Himiko Toga was Izuku's greatest shame.

The janitor left the bathroom, and Izuku exhaled the deep breath he didn't know he was holding. After exhaling, he inhaled, and his nostrils detected something off. They could smell something… that didn't quite belong.

…_not perfume but…_

Izuku glanced around the bathroom. He opened the door to the stall beside the one where he'd hidden. His eyes latched on to objects there. A bag, kept neatly. A phone, and…

"…clothes?"

A blouse, plaided skirt, pair of stockings, and pink underwear.

_What in the…?_

He emerged from the room, and for the second time, glanced around the bathroom.

"**Precision**."

He focused his quirk on his eyes. The seven million cones in his eyes multiplied by three. Colors, new and unfamiliar and impossible to describe to anyone who couldn't see them immediately flared. An entire world of observation made its way to him, and Izuku, realized, amongst these new colors, many belonged to the ultraviolet spectrum.

And… he was also seeing… a person.

A very _naked_ person.

A very naked person, covering her mouth, and…

"What… are you doing?"

The girl froze. She stared at him. She didn't move. Didn't speak.

"Are you… I mean…"

She moved her hands –

"Please stop."

She flinched again.

"I can see you."

She still didn't respond. She must have thought he was bluffing.

"Raise any number of fingers you want. If I can't see you, then I won't know how many or which you raise. If I _can_ see you – I'll know."

She hesitated. Curiosity won out, and her right hand went up.

"One finger. Middle finger. Not nice."

"Oh my god you can actually see me?" the girl blurted out. She seemed to realize something. "_Ohmygod _you can actually _see_ me."

"Um –"

"Ah, ah, oh my god, oh my god, um – stop – stop looking at me! Pervert! Perv! Ah –" She was panicking. "This – this is new. Oh, oh wow, is this what embarrassment feels like? Ah, you're still looking!"

"Um – "

"Listen, this – this isn't what it looks like! I wasn't doing… anything… okay?"

"Ah –"

"It's just, when I saw you with your girlfriend I kinda got a little excited… and nerves! Nerves okay? I mean, the exam was really hard and I think I may have flunked it and I probably won't become a hero so I felt I needed to relax and – well – not -not that I was actually doing – I mean – you, you understand right?"

Izuku wasn't sure what he understood.

"Oh god. Get it together Toru! The first person who can actually see you is a total hottie you're ruining it!"

Izuku was getting tired. "Listen… can we just pretend… this never happened?"

"…the part about your shape-shifting girlfriend sucking you in the girls toilet, or the part of me staying behind to watch?"

"She's not my girlfriend… and… yes… all of it."

"Wait, really? She's not?" The girl crossed her arms. "Ah… so that means you're… _that_ sorta guy?"

"Um, Toru-san, is it? We should probably be getting back to the exams."

"Ah! That's right!" She bounced. "I should get dressed."

"…you should."

"Aren't you going to turn around?"

"I've already seen you naked."

"…Am I hot?"

Izuku tilted his head. "This isn't a trick question... is it?"

"No, no, it's just… I've never seen my own teen reflection in the mirror and I don't even know how I look like… so… I've just always wondered…"

Izuku glanced over her.

"You're… beautiful."

"Wow." She giggled. Izuku saw the flush of red radiate around her face. "I always had a feeling but… it's nice to know it's true, from someone who can actually tell."

Midoriya wasn't sure what to say to that. He wasn't sure what to say to any of this. What was the right thing to say in this type of situation anyway?

"…Hey so, um… my lips are sealed about this. So if you wouldn't mind…" she cleared her throat. "I swear I'm not a voyeur or anything. It's just… I mean, when you're invisible… there's a lot of interesting... um… things… you get to see."

The girl put her clothes back together, and he realized he could still see her. He closed his eyes and tried to revert his eyes back to normal –

"…ah."

No cigar. It seemed he was stuck seeing these new colors and ultraviolent light till he died. In hindsight, he should have remembered that precision only let him make things _more _precise, and he couldn't _un_-precise things once he'd amped them up.

"Hey, hey, so um, after we're done with the exams, mind going out on a date?"

Izuku glanced the girl over. She was attractive, without a doubt. Still, he had more important things to do, really. Plans to make, things to happen… dating wasn't something he had his mind set on. Or rather, there was only one person he had his mind set on.

"Toru-san, I'm not looking for a relationship, right now."

"Whoa! Hold it mister! I didn't say anything about a relationship." She pouted. "A date. Just a date. Some fun, games, maybe a movie – come on, we're young, hot, desirable teens about to enter the best Hero Academy in Japan! Live a little."

Izuku wanted to blame it on his hormones, or blame the residual adrenaline from the events that happened earlier.

"I guess… it couldn't hurt?"

If it was just a date… one date… surely, it couldn't hurt.

She bumped her fist into the air. "Awesome! Ah – wait! Here I am asking you out on a date and I don't even know your name."

"It's… Izuku. Midoriya Izuku."

She beamed a smile at him.

"I'm Toru. Hagakure Toru. The girl with the world's brightest smile."

"Ah…"

"Oh shoot, you can actually see me, that means you're the only person who can disprove my claim. Damn you Izuku-kun!"

Izuku couldn't help the chuckle.

"Um… by the way… how much of the orientation for the practical exam do you think we've missed?"

Izuku sighed. "…a lot."

"How fast do you run Izuku-kun?"

"…Pretty fast?"

"…Race?"

"Can you keep up?"

Toru grinned. "They don't call me Vanishing Toru for nothing!"

"They don't…?"

"Last one there pays for the date!"

She did, actually, have pretty good sprinting speed. Izuku couldn't help the small smile on his lips, laughing at the absurdity of it all.

His time spent at UA might actually end up being more interesting than he ever imagined.


End file.
